


the days in between (the madness of life)

by thesunsethour



Series: hell yes, found family [1]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Spencer Reid, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Lesbian Emily Prentiss, M/M, Team as Family, tags will update as more chapters are published
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:48:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 24,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25766968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesunsethour/pseuds/thesunsethour
Summary: The hectic nature of their jobs does not lend itself to frequent time-off, so the members of the BAU have learned to treasure the quiet days in Quantico.  Days when no one is getting shot at, and everyone is safe.  These days are few and far between, but they transform the team from a simple group into something more.*Over the years, many team members ponder the weird, perpetually jet-lagged family they've made
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid, Aaron Hotchner & The BAU Team, Derek Morgan & Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid, Elle Greenaway & Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss & Spencer Reid, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau & Emily Prentiss, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau & Spencer Reid, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau/Emily Prentiss, Luke Alvez & Tara Lewis, Penelope Garcia & Derek Morgan, Penelope Garcia & Emily Prentiss, Penelope Garcia & Jennifer "JJ" Jareau, Savannah Hayes/Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid & David Rossi, Spencer Reid & Penelope Garcia, Spencer Reid/Original Male Character(s)
Series: hell yes, found family [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1932388
Comments: 143
Kudos: 363





	1. Aaron Hotchner; 2005

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So this is something of an introduction chapter. Its set after 'Natural Born Killer' in Season One, and so the team is still young and new. Don't worry! As the years go by they'll get closer and act like the wonderful family we all know and love. (Also little side-note - there isn't much dialogue in this chapter which I'm terribly sorry for but Hotch's perspective just suited a stream of consciousness more

Ever since becoming a father, Aaron Hotchner has come to cherish the silent moments that life occasionally sees fit to bestow upon him; Whether these moments occur at four in the morning after he and Haley finally get Jack down sleeping again, or quiet naps on the jet after a long, stressful case.

This particular silent moment found him in his office, gazing absent-mindedly at the November rain racing down the eastern window. He was hesitant to shut his eyes lest he fall asleep, and yet his office was warm, and his chair was so comfortable…

A soft peal of laughter from the main bullpen forced his eyes open, and he blinked several times in rapid succession in an effort to wake himself up. End-of-month paperwork days were slow and drowsy days in general, and the fact that it was a Sunday morning did Hotch no favours. Deciding to stretch his legs, he strolled over to the window overlooking the desks in the main area.

The laughter had died down, but a sense of quiet amusement filled the near-empty room. Through the blinds Hotch could make out Morgan and Elle chatting softly to each other, reports momentarily abandoned on their desks. Hotch couldn’t help but stare at them for a few moments. Elle had settled into the BAU seamlessly, with her and Morgan quickly developing a sibling-style relationship, teasing yet comforting. However close he was with Elle though, it was nothing compared to the hurricane that was Morgan’s relationship with Garcia.

Garcia, who Hotch could see exiting the elevator with a large box of what he expected were doughnuts, was quite possibly the biggest HR risk the BAU has ever faced. Between her and Morgan, Hotch was surprised that they hadn’t been officially reprimanded yet for inappropriate workplace behaviour. (Although, he knew in his heart that it was because no one would ever report them. Sometimes, after arduous cases with no happy endings, their banter filled the macabre air with a sense of joy they so desperately needed.)

Hotch couldn’t help but let out an amused snort as the head of one Dr Spencer Reid shot up from his desk at the speed of light once Garcia announced that she had bought his favourite doughnuts. Reid had gotten his paperwork finished about an hour into the day, but as usual he opted to stay in the bullpen with the team until the rest of them completed theirs. He called it ‘moral support’, but Hotch knew it was because he was scared of missing out on moments like these. Quiet moments of friendship that Hotch knew the kid never dared dream he would experience. Despite being at the BAU longer than Elle, Garcia or JJ, Reid still tended to get lost in his own insecurities sometimes. Sometimes Hotch worried that he was still too young for this job, but Reid had excelled in the year or so he’d been here, and Gideon’s expectations and quiet pride for the young genius had only increased.

Gideon. Garcia once called him the dinosaur of the BAU when she thought he was out of earshot and Hotch couldn’t help but agree. Occasionally he missed the earlier days of the BAU, when he was the younger member and occasionally forgot to breathe because of his excitement of working with giants such as Jason Gideon and David Rossi. Although Hotch was happy that Rossi had found his passion with writing books, there was a large part of him that missed the easy dynamic they shared; a dynamic that he and Gideon couldn’t replicate, especially since Gideon’s PTSD diagnosis. Hotch wanted so desperately for Gideon to confide in someone, to seek help. He knew, however, that there wasn’t a more stubborn man alive than Jason Gideon, and that changing his mind was nigh-on impossible. Still, there was some hope to cling to, Hotch thought shrewdly, as Gideon swooped down from his office to snatch the last remaining jam doughnut before JJ could reach out for it, and then promptly returning to finalise his paperwork.

Hiring a media liaison had been Hotch’s idea, and he wasn’t shy in admitting that it was one of his best. Not only was Jennifer Jareau an exemplary agent, she also seemed to bridge the seemingly insurmountable gap between what the BAU was and what Hotch knew it could one day be. She too, was painfully young, although not as young as Spencer, which Hotch was thankful for. If the BAU was employing two children (mid-twenties, his brain reminded him, but he ignored it) Morgan wouldn’t be able to get any proper work done, due to the amount of time he’d spend making sure they were kept out of harm’s way.

Hotch found himself smiling as he mused about the fiercely protective dynamic already making itself apparent within the team. They were working together better than Hotch could have hoped for, and sometimes, especially on days like today, the team almost felt like family. A weird, perpetually jetlagged, mis-matched family, but a family, nonetheless.

Unbidden, Hotch’s thoughts stray back to their most recent case in Baltimore, and the words he spoke to the unsub in the interview room; that children who grow up in extremely violent, abusive households may grow up to be serial killers, or may grow up to catch them.

As Hotch looked down at the bullpen, running a steady hand along his upper arm that once held far too many bruises for a child so young, he treasured his work family even more.

A grumble from his stomach has him leaving his office and wandering down the stairs toward the gaggle of younger agents, intent on stealing the last chocolate doughnut from Garcia’s box. As he makes his approach the quiet conversations become louder to his ears, and he heard Morgan and Elle teasing each other about God knows what, while Reid, Garcia and JJ are heatedly debating their favourite flavours of ice-cream. Hotch is once again struck by how young they all are, even Morgan and Elle, who tend to act like disgruntled older siblings most of the time.

“Hotch!”, Morgan called over to him, ”Get over here and tell Greenaway I’m not lying about the time we once apprehended an unsub on a speedboat.”

JJ groaned from where she was perched on Reid’s desk and Hotch could hear Garcia fondly mumble “Not again”, as Elle and Morgan began another round of bickering.

“The day I believe that is the day pig’s fly, Derek.”

“Ask the kid! It was one of his first cases!”

“Actually, during that case I was specifically focused on cracking a series of coded diary entries which-“

“Pretty boy, are you on my side or not?”

Hotch left the group, stolen doughnut in hand and an amused smile on his face, to return to his office and finish his final report. In less than an hour he would be home with Haley and Jack, cuddled on their sofa, watching whatever random TV show caught Haley’s eye.

He wondered absentmindedly what the other children in his life (the ones currently laughing like hyenas in the bullpen over something Garcia said) would be doing this evening.  
But as he heard Reid suggest a game of cards and heard Elle rustle around her desk for a pack of sweets to bet with, he knew that they would be in the bullpen finalising their reports, because they had spent the entire day chatting instead of working.

Hotch smiled. _Absolute children._


	2. Emily Prentiss; 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a random Wednesday, and Emily still felt somewhat like an outsider.

Sometimes Emily Prentiss truly felt as if the paperwork they were required to fill out after a case took longer and used up more of her energy than the actual case itself.

She was certain that her teammates felt the same, as she glanced across the round table to see Morgan falling asleep with his chin on his hand, and Reid absentmindedly doodling equations in the margins of his page. She briefly wondered if Hotch would reprimand him for that, but considering he regularly let Reid experiment with miniature rockets in the bullpen, she doubted it.

She wasn’t entirely sure if Hotch had fully warmed up to her yet. There were times when she caught him staring at her a second longer than warranted with a gaze so severe many would cower under it. After the fiasco in Georgia however, his suspicion had somewhat lessoned. Although, naturally, there were far more important things on his mind than her rather abrupt entrance into the BAU four months ago.

The Tobias Hankel case had left them all rather shaken, but none so much as Reid. Emily didn’t want to pry or hover, but from the glances she had been sneaking at him from the corner of her eye it was plain to see that he was struggling. There was near constant movement from his slender hands, which were currently tapping a rhythm into the side of his pen, and an occasional twitch in his eye from what Emily could only assume was lack of sleep. A loud yawn from beside him prompted the younger man to roll his eyes dramatically and mutter something under his breath, eliciting a glare from Morgan, who announced that he was going to visit Garcia for some better company.

Emily took a moment to consider whether to become annoyed at that statement when all of her attention was drawn to the woman side-stepping past Morgan’s retreating figure to enter the room.

Supervisory Special Agent and Media Liaison Jennifer Jareau. That was how she was introduced to Emily by Hotch all those months ago. Within seconds, however, she insisted on being called JJ, and although she wasn’t one for clichés, Emily was surprised JJ couldn’t hear her heart beating from inside her chest.

As she entered the briefing room Emily once again felt her pulse speed up and wondered if there would ever be a day when she looked at the other woman and didn’t feel like the world was standing still around them. Emily quickly pushed Morgan’s abandoned paperwork out of the way when JJ moved to sit on the table. She was flashed a kind smile in return, and Emily felt herself give a wide smile back, before reminding herself that overcompensation was just as bad as aloofness, and quickly returned to her work.

JJ was chatting quietly with Reid, and it didn’t take a profiler to notice that the two of them were closer now, in the wake of his kidnapping. Emily had asked Garcia, a few days ago, if they should be worried about a ‘random’ HR lecture on fraternization. Penelope had laughed right in her face, before declaring that if HR weren’t bothered to criticise her and Morgan they were hardly likely to come after Reid and JJ.

“And besides”, Garcia had told her, “JJ and my boy wonder tried the whole ‘dating’ thing. Didn’t work out.”

Her eyes had popped out of her head then, and Garcia was quick to explain, while laughing heartily, that they had gone on one date (that she had third-wheeled on) and decided to leave it at that.

Emily’s takeaway from that conversation had been simple: JJ was single, Reid wasn’t competition, and HR wasn’t likely to bother anyone about fraternization.

“-in DC over the summer, what about you, Prentiss?”

Emily’s head shot up, and she looked into JJ’s endlessly blue eyes in confusion. “What?”

JJ laughed lightly and turned her body to face her fully. “I was saying that I saw NSYNC in concert last summer. What was the last concert you went to?”

“With our work schedule?” Emily joked, heart fluttering when she noticed that she put a smile on JJ’s face. “I’ll tell you, but you’re not allowed to laugh.”

That piqued both Reid and JJ’s attention, and Emily took a deep breath before saying “Yo-Yo Ma.”

It was obvious that JJ had absolutely no idea who that was, but to Emily’s amusement, Reid’s eyes widened like a cartoon character and he sat up from his slouched position in his chair at lightning speed.

“You saw the ACTUAL Yo-Yo Ma in concert?”

Emily was taken back for a second at how animated the kid was, and the knowledge that she hadn’t seen him this engaged or excited in weeks truly saddened her. She recovered quickly, however, and began nodding back enthusiastically.

“It was for a benefit evening hosted by my mother, so I had to go, but I was delighted that I got to see him.”

“Tell me everything! Did you get to meet him? What was he like? What did he play? I love when he plays Beethoven but I’m also partial to his rendition of Brahms’s Cello and Piano Sonatas in E Minor. Did-“

“Calm down, Einstein. Leave some time to talk for the rest of us.”

Morgan had returned with Garcia trailing after him, holding her favourite octopus mug and a stack of files. She wacked him upside the head with the paperwork at his comment before handing them to JJ, who turned to face them once again.

“Morgan, play nice. Spence, Emily, I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

Reid swivelled around in his chair to look at her with disbelieving eyes. “Only the single greatest cellist currently active in the entire Western Hemisphere.”

“So you’re telling me you don’t listen to heavy metal? I’m shocked and upset.” Morgan reached over to ruffle his hair, but Reid managed to move before he could, pushing the spin-chair over to the other side of the table, until he was sitting beside Emily.

The boys continued bickering with occasional quips from Garcia, who was staring rather intently at her laptop. Emily wasn’t paying attention, however. She was far too engrossed in watching JJ’s face as she read through the files that Garcia had dropped off for her.

“I have to get these to Hotch and Gideon.” JJ said suddenly, but quietly enough that only Emily heard her. She scooted towards her, leaning her elbows on the table.

“Everything okay?”

JJ looked down at Emily, eyes softening even though her mouth was still drawn down in a frown.

“Yes, but there are a few potential cases here that have me worried. One in particular, down in New Orleans. I should get going”

With that JJ left for her office, Emily’s eyes trailing after her. When she turned her attention back to the conversation at hand Reid was staring at her with a slightly curious expression that she couldn’t quite place.

Morgan had gone from teasing Reid to flirting with Garcia, and Emily was still amazed at their relationship. It was flirty, sure, but there was a depth of love there so strong that it sometimes took Emily’s breath away, and she wondered if she would ever achieve that kind of bond with someone, platonic or not.

“Have they always been like this?”, she whispered to Reid, who gave a small smile back.

“Pretty much. He called her Baby Girl before he even knew her actual name.”

Emily huffed out a laugh at that and sat back in her chair. 

“If you come to after-work drinks I can tell you all about Yo-Yo Ma.”

Reid, although not a big drinker by nature, hadn’t come to O’Keefe’s at all since Georgia, and Emily could tell the other team members were worried. She just hoped he would react better to her asking him to join; he might see it less as coddling and more as a simple invite.

“I’m actually planning on revising a philosophy paper I have due tomorrow. Sorry.”

Dammit. Sometimes she forgot he was still doing online college.

“Maybe next time, then. I’ll ask the barman to put on Bach just for you.”

That earned her a laugh and a shy shake of the head.

“I’m not totally unaware of modern music. To fund my third doctorate I had to move back to Vegas for a while to earn some money and the local café I frequented had open mic nights. I saw The Killer’s play Mr Brightside a couple years before it was released. It was okay.”

Emily was pretty sure her jaw was on the floor at this stage, and she struggled for a few seconds to articulate her thoughts.

“I love them! How are you so nonchalant about this?”

Reid gave her another one of his small, sad smiles.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Prentiss.”

She knew he meant it to come out as a joke, but there was something in his tone that Emily just couldn’t identify. There was a look in his eyes, also. If she didn’t know better, she would describe it as pleading.

He excused himself after that, saying his paperwork was fully competed, and scratching at the inside of his elbow.

It was probably nothing. Just an itch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one of my favourite headcanons is that spencer is a reluctant fan of the killers. viva las vegas baby.


	3. Derek Morgan; 2007

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penelope has just returned to work, and Morgan struggles with his surprise for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello people idk if ive mentioned yet but the format of this is that i'm writing one chapter for every season so chapter one was just after 'natural born killer' chapter two after 'revelations' and this is after 'penelope' OK ENJOY

There are few words to describe the heartache and utter terror of seeing someone you love in pain.

There are, however, a multitude of actions to show how incredibly proud you are of said friend.

Morgan, in the wake of Penelope’s return to the BAU after she was shot, decided to make sure she knew just how strong she was. And he decided to show her this with double chocolate chip cookies. Cookies that were currently spread out on the floor of the BAU’s small kitchenette.

“Holy motherfucking goddamn _SHIT._ ”

“I sincerely hope your mother never heard you say that.”

Morgan spun around to see the smug face of one David Rossi leaning on the fridge, arms crossed and electing to ignore the dozen or so cookies surrounding the two men.  
“The damn lid on this is broken.” Morgan said, throwing out an arm to gesture lazily at the plastic container on the counter. 

Rossi raised an eyebrow, smirking as he bent down to pick up a rogue cookie. “These for Garcia?”

The younger man nodded but didn’t say anything more. It didn’t take a master profiler to guess who these cookies were for, and Rossi’s haughty attitude wasn’t needed right now. Rossi’s re-emergence into the BAU hadn’t gone as smoothly as Morgan suspected the other man had anticipated. There was an air of egotism to Rossi, although Morgan noted to himself that it was different to Gideon’s bouts of arrogance.

A flash of dull pain shot through him at the thought of Gideon. Not because of his departure per se, but at its nature. The death of someone he cared so deeply about. It was a risk of the job they all signed up for, but rarely did it manifest itself so cruelly.

Rossi cleared his throat, uncrossing his arms and making his way over to the small table. “I doubt you’re still going to serve them?”

Morgan looked him in the eye, challenging him. “Five minute rule, right?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s five seconds.”

There was humour in his words, and it wasn’t ill-intentioned. Morgan found himself relaxing slightly and eased himself into the chair on the opposite end of the table. For all his smarmy habits, Rossi was instrumental in helping Penelope after the shooting, and although Morgan knew he would be loathed to admit it, he was warming up to the idea of having a team.

“I just wanted to make sure she was settling in okay.”

Rossi raised an eyebrow. “She’s been back a week and a half.”

He promptly shut his mouth at Morgan’s glare, wiry smile twisting into something that resembled a frown. “You can’t still be blaming yourself? Garcia doesn’t need you moping around like that.”

Morgan wanted to snap at the older man. _How would he know what his baby girl needs?_ He stopped himself, however, when he realised that this was Rossi’s attempt at reaching out. 

“Garcia needed cookies, but now they’re probably ruined.” 

There was a twinkle in Rossi’s eyes. “Oh, I’d say they’re definitely ruined. But don’t worry, Hotch and I will get some more.”

“What?”

“What?”

The second incredulous question came from Hotch himself, who had just walked into the room to replenish his coffee cup.

“Aaron and I will pick up some cookies in the store on the way back from O’Keefe’s.”

“Why are we going to O’Keefe’s, why are we picking up cookies and more importantly why is my bullpen completely devoid of my agents?”

Morgan couldn’t help but stare wide-eyed at Rossi, who he suspected might be going slightly insane.

“We’re going to O’Keefe’s to reserve a table for tonight because it’ll be busy when the game’s on. We’re getting cookies for Garcia. Your capable agents are holed up in Garcia’s lair giggling like schoolchildren last time I checked. Come on, Aaron. Traffic is hell this time in the afternoon.”

With that Rossi took off at a brisk walk to the elevators, Hotch trailing after him mumbling something about missing Gideon, and Morgan took a second to wonder just what the hell happened.

Deciding against trying to psychoanalyze David Rossi, Morgan dumped the rest of the ruined cookies and made his way down to Garcia’s office, noting on his way there that Hotch and Rossi were right: There were no agents anywhere to be found.

Prentiss and Reid’s desks were left abandoned, paperwork scattered over coffee stained and ink marked wood. Passing by JJ’s office he noticed that it too was empty, which was highly unusual on their paperwork days, as this was when JJ usually sorted through their perspective cases.

Soon enough Morgan found himself standing outside Garcia’s headquarters, and sure enough, he could hear the sound of barely muffled laughter emanating from inside. He simply stood there for a moment, relishing the pure and uncomplicated joy that seemed to fill the air. He had hated seeing Penelope so downtrodden, and although he knew that her recovery from this was going to be arduous, he had faith in her eternal optimism. JJ and Emily’s laughs seemed to merge together, almost harmonising with each other, and although he felt guilty for thinking it, Morgan could hardly imagine the BAU without Prentiss anymore. Elle’s departure still hurt him, but all he could do now was have faith that she had moved on to bigger, better, and safer things. Most surprising to hear were the high-pitched giggles that formed Reid’s laugh. Morgan felt another large smile force itself onto his face at the sound. Reid had been so twitchy, so withdrawn lately. He had almost forgotten the sound of his laughter.

Not content to wait any longer, he decided to forego knocking and instead pushed open the door unannounced, freezing in surprise at the sight that awaited him.

His baby girl was sitting on the floor, back against a cabinet, holding onto two knitting needles. What looks like a thick purple scarf pooled around her crossed legs, before making its way over to JJ, who was sat across from her, leaning on Emily’s legs. A section of the purple monstrosity was wrapped around JJ’s neck warmly, giving her cheeks a red tinge from the heat. Emily was perched atop a counter and held the midsection of Garcia’s scarf while her legs supported JJ’s back. Morgan’s eyes followed the scarf once more, until his eyes landed on Reid, who was somehow tucked into a corner on Garcia’s desk, underneath two large computer screens. The kid was holding the end of the scarf and used it as a pillow for his head as he leant against the wall, a tired grin on his face. A sudden realisation came upon Morgan, and he recalled that Garcia had been knitting this scarf for almost two years now and was very nearly done.

“Derek! Thank God! Please help support the first third of my purple beauty.”

Penelope pointed to where she wanted him to hold up her scarf, and with a massive grin, he swanned over to where she directed him, lowering himself onto the ground and nudging Garcia’s leg with his in a silent check-up. She smiled brightly at him, and Morgan wondered, not for the first time, if any of the criminals they chase after on a daily basis would dare do what they do if they had a Penelope Garcia in their lives.

“So what were you guys laughing at when I came in?”, he asked, eyebrows raised in mock innocence.

“That’s for us to laugh at and you to figure out”, Emily quipped, as she ran a hand over JJ’s hair unconsciously. Morgan couldn’t help but notice how JJ leaned into the subtle touch.

“Pretty boy, you’ll take my side, right? Don’t leave me on the wayside.”

Reid, who had been fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt, looked up with a slight start. He grinned and said that it was Garcia’s rules in Garcia’s lair, and then the whole group was laughing again. Morgan didn’t want to think about how the girls and Reid were making more jokes than normal because nobody could bear the look of sadness that came over Garcia’s face when no one was looking. Morgan _especially_ didn’t want to think about the reason why Reid wore long sleeve shirts even though Garcia’s office was well heated. 

So Morgan thought about something else instead.

“Oh! I almost forgot. Baby girl, you’re gonna have two more visitors in a few minutes once Mom and Dad come back from the store.”

The ensuing confused laughter and then joyful laughter after his explanation warmed his heart, and as Morgan looked around this cosy room, full of damaged, impossibly strong people and an insanely long purple scarf, he couldn’t help but feel like recovery was in the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please feel free to leave a comment i'll love you forever


	4. Jennifer Jareau; 2009

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JJ returns from maternity leave, and everything seems suspiciously normal

Jennifer Jareau had been awake all of ninety minutes when she came to the conclusion that today was going to be a day where everything that could go wrong, would go wrong.

It was her first day back at the BAU since Henry’s birth four months ago, and she was determined to treat it like any other workday. But that was before the universe decided to hate her.

Her alarm woke her up at the correct time, thankfully, but in attempting to turn it off she only succeeded in accidently elbowing Will in the face. Neither of them had been getting much sleep in the past few months, and JJ immediately felt guilty for waking him up when there was no need to be awake. 

“Sorry! I’m sorry, shh. Go back to sleep, Henry’s still down.”

Thankfully, besides a slightly red cheek from her elbow whacking into him and a mumble about Henry’s formula, Will was back asleep within moments, and JJ could continue on with her day in peace.

Until she ran out of shampoo halfway through washing her hair. Until their coffee machine spluttered and died. Until she spilled cereal on her blouse and had to change. Until Henry woke up crying and it took both her and Will twenty minutes to calm him down. Until her car wouldn’t start, and she had to take the metro. 

She ended up jogging into the elevator with mere minutes to spare before she could be classified as officially ‘late’. Slightly out of breath and leaning against the elevator wall, she allowed herself a few moments to simply breathe, and prepare to go back to the madness that was her job. She wouldn’t lie to herself and claim that she hadn’t adored the time spent at home with her little boy, but she was eager to be back at the BAU.

She had texted into their group chat last night informing them that while she was delighted to be back from maternity leave, no one, under any circumstances, was to make a big deal out of it. The BAU has historically tended to be a bit dramatic where these things are concerned. And by ‘the BAU’, JJ of course meant Garcia. 

Nevertheless she received several texts back assuring her that even if there is no case today, it will remain a low-key, normal day at the office. JJ can catch up on her paperwork and re-organise her shelves.

She didn’t believe them for a second.

Penelope Garcia is physically incapable of just sitting back and having an average day, especially if that day involves the return of a much beloved teammate. So, as the elevator approached the sixth floor, their floor, JJ braced herself for the inevitable party poppers or bags of small gifts or the sight of an exceedingly innocent looking Garcia, holding a massive slice of cake behind her back. The doors slid slowly open, revealing…

Nothing.

JJ blinked twice before shaking her head slightly and walking towards the large glass doors. They had a briefing room for a reason, and while for the majority of the time that reason is presenting cases, a not-so-insignificant amount of time is spent hosting their mini celebrations.

But when the entered into the main bullpen, everything seemed exceedingly normal. 

There were several non-BAU agents scurrying around the place as usual, exchanging paperwork and filling out forms. She could see Hotch in his office talking on the phone, but it didn’t look urgent. Rossi’s back was visible from where he was sat in the kitchenette reading a paper. Casting her eyes over the seating area, JJ saw Spence, Emily and Morgan all hunched over their desks, either tapping away on computers or lazily flicking through case files. And there was no Garcia in sight.

Well, JJ had asked them not to make a fuss.

Grabbing hold of her bag, she walked over to the stairs to make her way to her office, nodding back when her teammates gave her small smiles before quickly resuming their work. She was thankful to find her door unlocked, but less thankful to find that no one had bothered cleaning up before her arrival. Agent Todd had evidently made herself at home in the months she’d been away, and there were boxes and case files scattered every which way. _So much for a relaxing morning,_ JJ thought bitterly, before stooping down to pick up a stack of paperwork from the floor, coughing a little at the dust that rose with it.

It was nearing nine in the morning by the time she had managed to clear her desk enough to even think about beginning in on her paperwork. Just as she opened the first file, a flustered looking Garcia poked her head in through the office door.

“Hey Jayje,” she said, “just wanted to let you know you’re gonna get a call from Olympia, Washington PD in a couple minutes. Bye!”

With that abrupt announcement she was gone again in a flurry of rainbow tights and glittery earrings, leaving JJ staring after her in slight shock. She didn’t have much time to dwell on it, however, as within seconds her phone was ringing, and JJ had to resist smiling before she picked up.

“Supervisory Special Agent and Media Liaison Jennifer Jareau of the BAU, how may I help you?”

It felt good to be back.

*

Forty five minutes later and JJ was powerwalking towards the briefing room, information on their newest case bouncing around her mind. The local PD haven’t classified it as urgent yet, and more than likely the team will only have to consult from Quantico, but it was still helpful to go through everything in the briefing room so that everybody was up to date.

Halfway there she was stopped rather abruptly by one Aaron Hotchner, who was blocking the corridor in what she assumed he believed was an inconspicuous manner. 

“Sir? Everything alright?” she tried to keep the amusement out of her voice but failed miserably. Hotch was capable of a great many things but leaning casually against a railing was not one of them.

“Yes. I’m just… chilling here.” She doesn’t think she’s ever heard their unit chief as uncomfortable as he evidently was right now.

“You’re just chilling?” JJ parroted, crossing her arms, and raising an eyebrow.

“Yes.”, was the monosyllabic reply Hotch graced her with. 

JJ nodded sternly. “Of course. Well, we have to consult on a case. So, if I can just slip past you there-“

“Oh look at that, my shoes untied.”

Exasperated at the utterly bizarre interaction she’s been experiencing these last few minutes, JJ just smiles before ducking under Hotch’s arm and continues striding in the direction of the briefing room and opening the door.

“JJ wait-“

It was difficult to decide what to focus on first as she stared into the room.

Morgan was stood precariously on a spinny chair, attempting to stick a bunch of yellow balloons to the top corner of the projector. Rossi was sitting on a chair beside him, holding onto the arm of the spinny chair to help Morgan balance while also directing Emily, who was in charge of putting up the baby blue balloons at the other end of the room. She saw Penelope sitting at the table, piping bag in her hand as she was halfway through writing JJ’s name on a massive red velvet cake. To top it all off, Spence was somehow inexplicably standing on the table, holding up a massive banner that said, “Welcome Home!”, and seemed to be in the middle of arguing with Emily over where to put it.

“Hotch! I told you to distract her!” the slightly hysterical voice of Garcia broke through the silence that enveloped the room when she opened the door.

“Its not my fault the script you gave me was unrealistic. I would never say chilling.”

“You’re a master profiler! You used to be a lawyer! You could have literally said _anything_ -“

Never one to be outshined, Morgan decided that this would be the opportune moment to completely lose his balance on the chair and topple over, landing with his head on the armrest, leg on Rossi’s thigh, and left foot stuck up in the air.

“I’m fine!”

“I’ve literally seen you tackle unsubs out a window, how did you manage to do that?”

“Pretty boy, I will _end_ you.”

“No he raises a valid point, let him speak.”

“Prentiss, I swear to God-“

JJ leaned against the doorframe, thoroughly enjoying the utter chaos that had taken over the room, and spared a sideways glance at Hotch, who had his head in his hands with exasperation. She was so distracted that she didn’t notice her phone buzzing with a text from the Olympia PD, stating that another body had been found.

She looked around the briefing room, at the teasing and laughing and general mayhem, and wished so desperately that they didn’t have to abandon it just yet.

“When do local PD want us?” Hotch’s low voice interrupted her inner thoughts.

“Not until this evening, but-“

“No buts. We can have fifteen minutes here, don’t you think?”

And then JJ was being shepherded toward the table, laughing as Morgan detangled himself from Rossi and plopped himself down on a chair next to Penelope, who had finished piping and was in the process of licking excess icing off her fingers. Emily stood slightly to the left of Hotch, a smile on her face that seemed to mask an emotion that JJ just couldn’t place.

Hotch moved to grab a box from the small table of presents, but before JJ could insert that they didn’t need to get her anything, he let out a frustrated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Reid?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Get down from the table.”

“Yes, sir.”

Spence draped the banner over JJ’s shoulders like a scarf on his way down and JJ couldn’t resist reaching to pull him down into a quick hug which he eagerly returned.

“We all missed you, you know.” Spence said, ducking his head shyly.

And then their impromptu party was in full swing, with Garcia dishing out slices of cake to everyone and Morgan trying to give her parenting advice despite being childless. At least his was good advice, JJ laughed to herself, Emily once suggested buying two-month-old Henry a Lego set. In amidst the laughter and camaraderie JJ couldn’t help but notice that Emily would sometimes get a slightly faraway look in her eye. JJ knew that Emily wanted kids one day, and maybe that was the cause of the longing glances that were occasionally being sent her way. Of course, there was a time when JJ thought those longing glances could mean something else, something more-

Rossi was now standing up and giving a toast to baby Henry, and JJ finds it genuinely hilarious that in the year or so since he has been back in the BAU he has transitioned from despising the thought of having to work in a team to teasing Morgan over his shoddy balloon-placing skills. Spence, too, has changed so much in the past year. He was less twitchy, less closed off. It was the worst-kept secret in the BAU that he struggled after Tobias Hankel, and JJ was so relieved at his recovery that it almost alleviated the guilt she felt at not reaching out to him all those months ago.

Hotch must have noticed her getting lost in her thoughts and nudged her shoulder slightly.

“Tired?”

Sure, let him think that, it wasn’t exactly a lie.

“Mhm. He won’t be sleeping through the night for quite a while.”

Hotch laughed at that, obviously recalling his own son at that age.

“You’ll be a great mother, JJ.” His eyes softened, and he looked at her with his own fatherly gaze. 

JJ’s phone buzzed again, and both she and Hotch knew they’d have to get moving soon, but JJ found that she couldn’t speak through the lump in her throat. Hotch, saw, and made the announcement himself.

JJ had been worried about returning to work, about spending so much time away from her family. That was stupid, she now realised, because this was her family, too.

And they had work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter! i actually got motivation to write! who the hell am i anymore
> 
> also my tumblr is thesunsethour if any of ye ever wanna chat
> 
> enjoy my dears


	5. David Rossi; 2009

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haley Hotchner was dead, and Rossi ponders his religion and his family

David Rossi wouldn’t describe himself as particularly religious, but being brought up Catholic leaves a lasting imprint on any man’s psyche.

There are the classic jokes about sexual repression,

_That why you have three marriages under your belt, Rossi? Rebellion gone wrong?_

the habits that are impossible to break, even long into adulthood,

_Didn’t know you were a bad flyer, Rossi. (All he did was bless himself, the turbulence was severe)_

and a healthy amount of guilt.

_Healthy?_

For the most part, Rossi didn’t care much for his religion. But tomorrow was Haley Hotchner’s funeral, and it seemed impossible to avoid.

Her service would be beautiful, in a harrowing sort of way. The aisles will be filled with dark coats and dark suits and darker hearts, and up the front will sit a little boy who doesn’t understand why this had to happen. Hell, Rossi doesn’t understand why this had to happen, and he has several decades and a war on the kid.

Her burial too, will be beautiful, but in a more devastating way. There is a finality to laying someone in the ground to rest forever. Jack had asked the other day, in a moment of such perfect innocence, whether his mother would be lonely down there when they bury her. Rossi had no answer, and neither did the God he prayed to for help. Aaron looked as hopeless as he felt.

The funeral was tomorrow, and nobody was quite ready for it. Especially not the five BAU agents gathered together in the briefing room, all of whom Rossi suddenly realised were painfully, almost mockingly young. He felt impossibly ancient sitting next to them, and yet could not think of a single thing to say. Not a word of reassurance saw fit to pass his lips. 

There had been a dark cloud hanging over their workplace since Haley’s death, as each of them attempted to finalise paperwork on quite possibly the most horrific case any of them had ever worked. They had only seen Hotch once, when he swung by to collect some stray documents from his desk, Jack perched on his hip. He didn’t say a word, and no one could blame him.

No one was saying anything now, even though they had all assembled to discuss what tomorrow would bring. As Rossi looked around the room, it was second nature to profile them. In fact, he would hardly classify it as profiling since everyone was wearing their emotions on their faces so unreservedly that it nearly stunned him.

JJ, Garcia, and Reid all looked sad. As a best-selling author, Rossi wishes he could think of a better adjective to describe them, but none came to mind. There was no other word to capture the simplicity of their grief, the pure, unfiltered sorrow that seeped from their very beings. On the other hand, Prentiss and Morgan looked angry. Furious at Foyet and the rest of the goddamn world. He couldn’t blame them. He was angry, too.

Just as Rossi was beginning to think that no-one at all was going to speak, a scratchy voice piped up.

“I still can’t believe this,” Penelope sniffled. “It’s just the most heart-breaking thing in the world.”

Rossi could see the others nod in solemn agreement. Morgan moved slightly so that Garcia could rest her head on his shoulder, and JJ reached out so that she was grasping Garcia’s hand in her lap. Rossi knew that this was hitting Penelope and Morgan hard. Both of them knew what it was like to lose a parent. Although, Rossi’s brain supplied unhelpfully, neither of them were as devastatingly young as Jack was.

“I just keep imagining her final moments. How scared she must have been-“

“Penelope, you have to stop this.”

Rossi hadn’t intended for his words to come out as sharp as they did, and he felt guilt swell up inside of him when he saw Garcia’s wide, watery eyes staring at him in betrayal.

Rossi took a deep breath. “In my family, the day before the funeral is never filled with sadness. We only remember the good times. And we drink to them.”

The large bottle of sambuca that he promptly pulled out from his go-bag at his feet earned a small laugh from around the table. Rossi ordered Prentiss to fetch a few glasses from the kitchenette so they could begin. Garcia was still staring at him with wariness but seemed much more composed than a few moments ago.

“You know,” Rossi began, looking at Garcia but addressing everyone, “the day before my Uncle Enzo’s funeral in ’75, me and my cousins got so drunk we missed the first half of the ceremony the next day. Our mothers damn near killed us. We didn’t mind, we hated the guy.”

“Well, let’s hope that doesn’t happen here.” Prentiss quipped, as she returned with the glasses and some tonic water. 

“You must have known Haley during your first stint at the BAU, right Rossi?”

JJ’s slightly tear-strained voice broke from the silence that threatened to cloak the room once everyone was settled with their drinks. Their young media liaison seemed to have permanent redness around her eyes since that fateful day, no doubt imagining how distraught her own son would be if Mommy could never hug him again. Rossi couldn’t help the small smile that graced his face when he heard her speak. It took courage to begin conversations like these.

“I did.” Rossi supplied, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “The fist few months Aaron was working here, I thought he was engaged. He was just so smitten with her. He’d call her before a case, every night during one, and straight after it was finished. Then I found out that the ring around his finger wasn’t some fancy engagement ring Haley made him wear, but an actual wedding ring. They’d been married five years and were still in the honeymoon phase. I’d never seen anything like it. Hotch is a smart man, but he was absolutely stupidly in love.”

Suddenly the faces sitting beside him wore small smiles rather than frowns, and they toasted to the first memory shared, all of them laughing softly when Reid’s face scrunched up in distaste at the alcohol. 

“Haley once offered to trash Morgan’s apartment for me.” Garcia said suddenly, sighing happily at what was obviously for her a treasured memory, but what was, for nearly everyone else, the single most confusing sentence they’d ever heard.

“ _What?_

Morgan’s incredulous question could barely be heard over Prentiss confused guffaw of laughter and Reid and JJ’s knowing giggles. It was obvious that they already knew the details of what Rossi expected to be a very interesting story. With a twinkle in his eye and a refilling of her glass, he prompted Penelope to continue.

“We were all out drinking one night, God it was years ago now. Derek and I were just casually chatting-“

“ _Casually chatting?_ ” interrupted JJ, voice an entire octave higher than usual. “I thought we were gonna have to book you two a room! Porn stars would be more modest than you two that night.”

“It was all words, Jayje my love. I call it spicy platonic.”

“I’m guessing Haley didn’t know about your spicy platonic relationship?” Prentiss cut in, grinning wickedly.

“No she didn’t! And then fifteen minutes later when Derek went off to dance with a pretty girl-“

“A _few_ pretty girls.” Reid inputted cheekily.

“A few too many pretty girls. Anyway, Haley cornered me a while later, she was a bit tipsy and looked absolutely positively devastated. She told me that no woman deserves a husband who would cheat on her so openly. Then she offered to trash his apartment for me.”

“She thought you two were married?” Prentiss asked delightedly, thoroughly enjoying both Garcia’s story and the tremendous amount of embarrassment showing plain as day on Morgan’s face.

“Yes! She was ready to kill Morgan. I felt so supported.”

Another round of drinking ensued, with Morgan downing his quickly, a grumpy look on his face that didn’t last long because Rossi knew that there wasn’t anything Penelope Garcia could do to make Morgan properly angry at her.

“Do you remember when Hotch brought Haley and Jack into work one morning a few weeks after Jack was born?” Reid asked, turning to look at the members of the BAU who were there at the time. After their nods, he continued. “Haley asked me if I wanted to hold him. I said no, but she sort of insisted. The second he was in my arms, he sneezed. I got such a fright that I nearly dropped him, and Haley ended up just placing him on my lap instead. I also think I freaked her out a little by talking about how babies tend to sneeze on average 28% more than adults.”

“I remember that!” JJ cut in gleefully. “I didn’t know who was more nervous, you or her.”

“Definitely me. The Reid Effect, remember?”

And suddenly stories were being traded left right and centre, mainly from Garcia and JJ, but the occasional one from the boys as well. Prentiss was quieter, content to listen rather than actively contribute. Rossi figures this is because she didn’t know her as well. It doesn’t escape anyone’s notice that the happy stories they’re trading all occurred prior to the Hotchner’s divorce. No one wanted to mention how frosty their relationship had gotten towards the end. These last few years have been hard on Aaron, Rossi mused, and the next few were going to be harder still.

Rossi looked around the room, as Morgan and Garcia animatedly tell another tale, hands flying this way and that as they argue over whose account is more accurate. The redness surrounding JJ’s eyes has dissipated slightly, but she is clutching Reid’s hand like a lifeline, and Rossi can’t help but marvel at how far the kid’s come. A year ago there was no way his hand would be steady enough to comfort a friend.

They’ve all come so far, and there is further yet to go. Tomorrow they will mourn, listen to eulogies, and try not to think of the sound of the gunshot that killed Haley Hotchner.

Tonight they will drink and laugh and remember.

Because this is a Rossi family tradition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello wonderful people just a little disclaimer that i completely made up the 28% stat because although babies do sneeze more than adults i couldnt find a proper statistic
> 
> hope you enjoyed! this chapter was a bit sadder sorry


	6. Spencer Reid; 2011

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An evening at O'Keefe's

The crash of a cue hitting into a pool ball reverberates around Spencer’s head, adding to the cacophony of sounds already surrounding him; the beat of the bar’s music, the football game playing on a tv in the corner, the laughter of his colleagues. From anyone else’s perspective, it seems like a regular night at O’Keefe’s.

However, it was the BAU’s first team outing since JJ left to work for the CIA, and everyone seemed to be putting a little too much emphasis into their smiles and jokes, most likely to appease Garcia, who looked seconds away from crying whenever she overheard someone at the bar order a Margarita because that had been JJ’s go-to.

Spencer Reid was trying not to cry for a different reason, however, and it was because of his _goddamn_ head.

In hindsight he probably shouldn’t have agreed to go out when he realised that he was developing yet another migraine, but there’s only so many times a person call pull the ‘I have to stay late to finish paperwork’ excuse before you get called out on your bullshit. So he’s in O’Keefe’s, sitting on a sticky bar chair, ginger ale in hand and listening to Rossi tell the story of his escapades in London in ’79. It’s a story the entire BAU has heard several times over. The fact that Emily is doubled over in laughter as Spencer mouths Rossi’s words along with him is testament to that. Rossi catches him in the act and gives him a playful slap on the head, which he laughs off because he knows it’s a teasing gesture. That doesn’t stop the searing pain that he feels shoot through his skull, though.

Rossi starts in on another classic BAU story, and even Hotch rolls his eyes when he begins. Spencer is pretty sure that even without an eidetic memory he’d be able to recall Rossi’s version of when he first encountered a serial arsonist who was also a firefighter back in ’82. None of the team interrupt him though. They all know why he’s telling these stories.

Ashley Seaver was new to the team, and it seemed like Rossi was doing a rapid fire introduction of the BAU’s most famous anecdotes, starring alcohol and bad decisions made in the 70s and 80s. Spencer wasn’t sure exactly what he thought of Seaver. She seemed to be a promising agent, but whenever he saw her walking around the bullpen, blonde hair swinging slightly as she moved, all he could think of was JJ.

The nature of their jobs means that Spencer has seen his friends early in the morning and late at night. He has seen them exhausted and ecstatic and everywhere in between. The horror of the world has brought them close together, and he quite naively imagined that they would never part. 

JJ is his best friend, the mother of his godson. If he didn’t have an eidetic memory he would say that he’d lost track of the number of late night plane conversations they’d shared throughout the years, or early-morning breakfasts in motels. They’d confessed things to each other, a testament to their trust. Things neither of them thought, at the beginning of their friendship all those years ago, they would ever feel comfortable enough to share.

_I’m scared of being a Mom._

**I still see Tobias’ face when I fall asleep at night.**

_My sister, Roz. She killed herself._

**I’m bisexual.**

_I think my parents are disappointed in me._

**I feel like Gideon left because of me.**

Spencer never thought he was the kind of person who was allowed to have best friends. He was never so glad to have been proven so wrong.

Still, there were some things that he just couldn’t share. Memories of vials of dilaudid in shaking hands penetrate his mind. He thinks of the paralysing fear that he lives with every day, of succumbing to the disease that stole his mother’s health and mind. He feels his goddamn migraine pressing at his skull. He never told her any of that.

Spencer knew that he could tell someone else on his team. Garcia and Morgan practically radiate worry whenever he stops to massage his temples because of the pain. He knew that Emily, Rossi or Hotch would react calmly, offer advice. 

But he just couldn’t do it.

“-Reid?”

“What?”

Apparently while he had been musing, the team’s conversation topic had shifted, unbeknownst to him.

It was Seaver who was speaking, and she rolled her eyes as she talked. “I said do you want to play pool? We’ll do it in teams. Might give you a chance.” She winked after that, and Spencer genuinely was not able to discern if she was being friendly or outright mocking him.

He looked up from his ginger ale slowly, as not to aggravate his headache, and nodded shyly. Seaver quickly moved over to the pool table after declaring that Morgan could be on his team, to even it out.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Garcia cackled loudly. “Reid you absolute sneaky snake! Acting all innocent and shy. Dr 187, I’m starting to realise why you’re so good at poker.”

“I’d say the PhD in math has something to do with it.” Hotch interjected, but Garcia ignored him.

“How long until Seaver realises you can calculate the angles on the balls faster than someone else can pick up the cue?”

Morgan answered for him, a wide grin on his face. “Not until we sweep the floor with her. Come on, pretty boy. Prentiss, you playing as well?”

Emily, Spencer had noticed, was looking more sombre than usual these days. He was glad she came out with them tonight, she was looking more relaxed than he’d seen her in weeks. She nearly looked as happy as she used to look when JJ was still working with them.

“Oh, no. I’m perfectly happy here with my drink and the several more I’m just about to order.” 

Garcia quickly agrees to play with Seaver, despite placing a bet on Spencer and Derek winning. She declared that it wasn’t match fixing if the other side was guaranteed to win. 

And win they did.

They agreed to play first to five matches, and the boys managed to reach that goal in less than twenty minutes. They had a carefully polished strategy, tried and tested in random hotel bars up and down the country. Spencer would lounge on the side of the table, instructing Morgan on the angles of each shot, the correct amount of force needed to hit the ball, and the possible results of each shot, depending on where the cue ball ended up. Whenever it was Spencer’s turn to actually pot the balls, he would do so quickly and efficiently, picturing the trajectories of each play in his mind before anyone else could even wish him luck.

As Spencer and Derek won their fifth match in a row Garcia was a giggling mess in the corner, having spent the majority of the time playing drinking. Seaver was leaning on he pool cue, eyes wide in shock, no doubt mentally counting the money she had on her person. She lost quite a bit of it this evening.

“Never try to hustle a Vegas kid!” Morgan called over to her gleefully, gesturing at Spencer, who was returning to the bar to order another ginger ale now that their competition was over. The barman looked around his age, but with darker hair and striking blue eyes. If Spencer had any energy he may have attempted thinking about possibly trying to talk to him, but not tonight.

The bar was fairly deserted, and he allowed himself a few minutes alone to nurse his drink. His head wasn’t pounding as much, which he attributed to more time spent calculating pool ball routes and less time stressing about developing schizophrenia. There’s still an ever-present ache behind his eyes though, and he wishes he thought of bringing his sunglasses to work today. It would help ease the pain. Almost like material painkillers. Because he couldn’t have actual painkillers. Narcotic painkillers. Not even as his mind and his body scream out for the release that he use to allow himself to feel every day while he was using. He didn’t even crave the euphoric feeling, not really.

He just wanted the pain to _stop._

Morgan, who unbeknownst to Spencer had been watching him from across the bar in concern for the past several minutes, decided at that moment to approach him.  
“You know,” Morgan said to him, a cheeky grin on his face, “there’s a fine girl over there that’s been checking you out for the last while, pretty boy.”

Spencer scoffed but looked over anyway, seeing both the aforementioned ‘fine girl’ and the rather attractive barman he noticed earlier serving her a large cocktail.   
He must have stayed silent for too long, because suddenly Morgan was sitting in the barstool beside him and was laying a hand on his upper arm.

“Hey, kid? Garcia and I were planning on heading back to her place and watching a movie. Come with us.”

Spencer furrowed his brows at that, thinking back to previous nights out with the BAU. Every time without fail, Morgan and Garcia were the last to leave for the night. More often than not, in a slightly intoxicated stupor.

“You don’t have to invite me.”

But that was the wrong thing to say, because then Morgan cupped the back of his neck so that they were looking at each other face to face.

“I know, Reid. We _want_ to. We’re your friends, and you gotta let us in if the world gets too loud.” 

The last time Spencer thought the world was as loud as it was tonight was two and a half years ago. He ended up shooting up in a police precinct.

“A movie sounds good.”

Morgan looked at him more seriously this time.

“A movie with me and Penelope, or a movie in town?”

A movie in town; the way in which they all avoid mentioning his NA meetings.

“With you and Pen. I just need some quiet.”

Morgan gave a relieved nod and wrapped an arm around his shoulder to lead him back to the group to pick up Garcia.

His headaches were ever-present. But he was slowly realising his friends were, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive had a weird fucking couple days but heres a chapter i wrote to distract myself from the Everything going on rn


	7. Penelope Garcia; 2012

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The infamous s7 Girls' Night

Girls’ nights began in around 2007. At first, they were small, infrequent get-togethers; a way to get to know Emily, who was new, and to mourn Elle’s departure. 

As Penelope Garcia sat upside down in her armchair, drinking a fruity cocktail through a looped straw, watching JJ and Emily compete against each other in Just Dance 4 while simultaneously taking gin shots, she realised Girls’ Night may have spiralled a tiny bit out of control.

She couldn’t even be mad about it though. Firstly, because she was having so much fun, but secondly (and far more importantly) because it was the first Girl’s Night since Emily’s resurrection. It had been nearly five months, and Penelope still had to pinch herself sometimes when Prentiss walked into a room or called her during a case. It still felt so surreal, to have this incredible woman alive and back home.

“That’s so unfair!” she hears Emily cry, as JJ wins her seventh dance battle in a row. Penelope wants to input that it is _totally_ fair since Emily spent the entire second half of the last round collapsed on the floor and moving nothing but the Wii remote, but the alcohol seems to have temporarily removed her ability to speak coherently, so she settles for booing, instead.

That prompts Emily to march over to Penelope, flop on the sofa beside her, and drape half her upper body on the other woman’s legs. JJ soon followed, and then the three of them were huddled precariously on the small sofa and armchair, giggling at everything and nothing.

“What time is it? JJ asked, words slightly slurring together.

“Almost 3 am, I think.” Emily answered, after grabbing Penelope’s arm and twisting it towards her so she could see her watch. “Hey, JJ, what time were you supposed to relieve Reid of Henry duties?”

JJ shrugged nonchalantly, “Not until midnight.”

Emily and Penelope turned to look at each other with perfect cartoon expressions of amused shock.

“Jayje, honey, I don’t know how to break this to you, but 3 am is actually later than midnight.”

JJ sat up from her slouched position, eyebrows furrowed in barely concealed confusion. Her eyes then widened, the other women’s laughter was drowned out by JJ’s loud “Oh, FUCK.”

“This is all your fault, Em!” she continued. “You know how competitive I get! I didn’t even notice what time it was.”

“Oh Reid will be _fine_. I’m sure Henry’s asleep and he’s watching some obscure documentary on fucking... the Pythagoras Theorem or something. Maths!”

Emily’s drunken reassurances did little to calm JJ’s mind.

“And Hotch’s triathlon is tomorrow! I can’t believe I let you both talk me into this.”

“It was your idea.”

“Garcia, quick suggestion? Shut up.”

Penelope’s bark of laughter preceded the sound of JJ tripping over an empty beer bottle and landing flat on her back. Emily began laughing like a hyena and JJ’s grumpy face reminded Penelope of Henry in the middle of a tantrum. It was moments like these she treasured. Stupid, giggling moments with her family.

“We’re all disasters. I love us.”

That seemed to brighten JJ’s expression, and she eagerly turned her head to face Penelope. “Remember that time Morgan got so drunk he tried to hit on a mannequin?”

Emily’s eyes lit up in glee as Penelope giggled and recalled the memory. It was a cold November day in some backwards town in the middle of Ohio in early ’05. It was one of the few cases that she was required to tag along during. The sight of an absolutely hammered Morgan, asking the figurine for her number with the grace of a dolphin on roller skates was one of her most treasured memories. They had been celebrating closing a serial arsonist case if she remembers correctly.

“That’s _incredible_. Where was I?”

JJ stretched her neck so she could see Emily. “It was before you joined the team. Before Elle left, actually.”

The room got quieter after her last sentence. Penelope remembered the last few weeks before Elle quit. It was obvious that she was struggling, but no one knew how to help, or what to say. As Penelope looks around her living room now, gazing at these two incredible women, and everything the three of them have been through, she can’t help but feel guilty. Maybe if her and JJ made more of an effort back when Elle was struggling she wouldn’t have had to leave the way she did.

They were all so young back then. Too young and naïve for the job that had to be done.

They have grown into it, though.

“God, I haven’t thought about Elle in years.” JJ mumbled, thoughts obviously going down the same road as Penelope’s.

“What was she like?” Emily asked, sitting up straight.

JJ and Penelope raised their eyebrows in slight surprise. It took Emily years to not feel like a total outsider in the team, living in the shadow of Elle for the first few months she was there.

“She was a total badass.” JJ started, grinning slightly. “Took no shit from anyone.”

“If you were a male cop and you so much as looked at a witness or victim the wrong way, Elle would be on them faster than lightning. If any man looked at _her_ the wrong way, she’d drop kick them into next week.” Penelope continued, recalling the many occasions this had happened.

“She was also real private. I worked with her for nearly two years and I didn’t learn much of anything about her.” JJ added. “That also made her incredibly loyal. She didn’t let anyone get a hand on those pictures of Spence and Lila.”

“Ugh. I wanted to see those pictures, though.” Penelope whined.

“Spencer and who?”

Emily’s question breathed some life into Penelope and JJ, whose heads shot up at the speed of light.

“You never heard?”

“No! What pictures?”

“OMG. Emily. I can’t believe no one ever told you this. Okay so, picture the scene. It’s 2006 and the team was in LA for a case that involved Famous Hollywood Actress Lila Archer.”

“Never heard of her.”

“Shh and listen to my story. My boy genius was sent to her very snazzy house to protect her and within like two hours they were making out in her pool like teenagers. In front of the paparazzi! Steamy, am I right?”

Emily’s eyes were blown wide in her drunken glee. “Spencer Reid? Our Spencer Reid? Made out with a Hollywood actress in her pool? That goes against so many regulations, Jesus Christ. I love it.”

“It always seemed more like something Morgan would do.” JJ interjected, but Penelope was quick to hush her, despite Emily’s noise of agreement.

“Girls, you are forgetting one crucial thing. Yeah, Baby Genius has an IQ of infinity and like 48 PhDs, but he was also 24. He was a 24-year old dude, and a hot girl was kissing him in a pool. Of course he was gonna kiss back. Transference be damned.”

“Ha! That makes sense.” Emily laughed. “When I first met him though, I got a bit of a gay vibe.”

“He could be, like, bisexual.”

“I know, Pen! I’m certain he’s at least bi. I’m not wrong about these things.”

Penelope noticed that JJ was keeping her lips shut tightly during this portion of the conversation, and she wondered if JJ knew more than she was letting on. 

“How can you just know ‘these things’, Em?” Penelope giggled.

“Like recognises like! I’d be a shitty lesbian if I didn’t have an at least-semi functional gaydar. Not to mention a shitty profiler.”

JJ and Penelope stared at their very drunk friend for a fraction of a second before jumping on top of her for a group hug.

“Emily! I’ve been trying to set you up with a man for years! Talk about counter-productive.”

“HA! I’m sorry, PG. If it makes you feel better I’m still gonna ignore your input on my romantic life even if you now know the correct gender.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And the three of them were hugging, tipsy and tired and happy at Way-Too-Early O’Clock.

A Typical Girls’ Night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im getting my exam results next week so ive been Stressed sorry this chapter is late


	8. Alex Blake; 2012

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yet another paperwork day

Working for the FBI, especially in the field, required a person to have a certain level of tolerance for early morning flights, painfully long car rides, and a perpetual feeling of jet-leg. That didn’t mean, however, that one couldn’t be immeasurably thankful for a day (or two, or three) of paperwork in Quantico.

Alex Blake lay down her pen, which was quickly running out of ink, and covered a large yawn with her hand. Recovering back from week-long, high pressure cases had been much easier during her first stint in the FBI, some 25 years ago. She could remember working for what felt like weeks on end without sleep during the Unabomber case, her first major case, her third one overall. She was 24 and felt like she could conquer the world. If you had told that Alex Blake that she would one day treasure these paperwork days, she would have laughed.

But, holy hell, they were a godsend.

Hotch, Rossi and Garcia were holed up in their respective offices, but JJ, Morgan, Reid, and herself had commandeered the briefing room, and had spread out all the overdue paperwork between them, in an effort to combine resources. There was very little _actual_ work getting completed, though. Alex blamed JJ and Morgan.

They had propped Morgan’s iPhone up against a large pot of coffee and were watching a livestream of some random football game that obviously held great meaning for them, but which meant absolutely nothing to Alex. Every few minutes one or the other of them would let out a cheer, alerting Alex and Spencer to the game’s development. While Alex had no particular feeling for the game, it was glaringly obvious that Spencer despised it, mainly due to the fact that he wasn’t allowed to move the phone to reach for the coffee pot. 

“You know JJ, I always forget that you were a jock.” He said, glaring at her with exaggerated malice.

“Thought you never forget anything.” She shot back, grinning.

Alex nearly laughed aloud at the look on Spencer’s face but was quickly distracted by Morgan’s loud “WHOOP”; which signified a touchdown for his team, whichever one that was. Spencer tried to stay pissed off at them, but it was an impossible task. Their joy was somewhat infectious.

Realising that no one was going to get any work done today until the game had ended, Alex took out the crossword puzzle that she had been working on in her free time and motioned for Spencer to take the seat beside her. He eagerly obliged with a pleased smile, and soon they were working together, breezing through clue after clue.

Before long they finished the puzzle, and eight more after that one. Their conversation flowed easily, as it always did. They talked of Spencer’s current research projects, Alex’s newest exploration of ancient language texts, and their lectures at Georgetown. Alex had invited Spencer to do another guest lecture in a few weeks’ time, and it did not escape her notice that his confidence had increased tenfold since his first class. Utterly ignoring the unofficial rules against inter-team profiling, she also took notice of the fact that he seemed more confident in general. More confident, more content, and more covert.

Alex smiled as he launched into a long monologue on the links between geographical profiling and linguistic profiling on state boundaries. _God bless you, Phone-Booth-Girl,_ she thought. Spencer looked happier than she had ever seen him before, and it made her happy in turn. 

It made her feel proud.

Proud of this incredible kid, not so kid-like anymore, who obliterated her record of youngest FBI recruit by two and a half solid years. Who she first met as a 19-year old Caltech student who was so eager to learn about linguistics, despite his Chemistry thesis submission date looming. He had a thirst for knowledge that she both envied and adored.  
She hated herself for feeling proud and hated herself for hating it.

When she first met the impossibly young Dr Reid, her son Ethan had been dead for less than a year, and she made no connection between them. Ethan in her mind at that point was a sickly young boy, in pain and nauseatingly pale. The only memories her grief-addled mind could conjure of her baby were despairing, and utterly unlike the rambling, awkward teenager that asked her endless questions on the links between Balto-Slavic and Iranian dialects.

It was only when she officially re-joined the FBI and got transferred to the BAU that she noticed the connection between the two of them, and she was floored with emotion. The curly mop on top of his head, with kind hazel eyes underneath. A quiet yet infectious laugh. A wealth of kindness and empathy in him. 

But she was not his mother, and he was not her son.

So why did he gravitate to her for advice, and why did she glow with pride when she sees him succeed?

She was not his mother, and he was not her son, but sometimes the lines got blurred. Neither of them minded, really. Life was too short and too hard to push away genuine love.  
She thinks that her Ethan and Spencer would have been friends; that her baby boy would gain an older brother in the young doctor. They would ramble to each other about dinosaurs and outer space and Star Wars.

_”GOD. MOTHERFUCKING. DAMMIT.”_

Morgan’s exclamation followed by JJ’s delighted holler yanked her out of her thoughts, and she caught sight of Spencer diving for the coffee pot as Morgan removed his phone, signifying the end of the match that JJ’s team quite obviously won.

“Use your nice words, Derek.” JJ gently chided

“What?”

JJ immediately blushed bright red and tried to explain (over Morgan and Spencer’s laughter) that spending 48 hours around a 7 year old made it difficult to re-adjust to being around adults again. 

And then JJ was eagerly telling stories to the boys about Henry. How he was getting so much better at riding his bike, how he was currently obsessed with Ben-10, how his favourite colour was now blue.

Alex remained silent even as Morgan and Spencer asked JJ endless questions about her little boy. It was hard, sometimes, hearing this wonderful young mother talk of her wonderful young son. Although she had never met Henry, Alex knew he was a delightful boy, and cute as a button. She wanted to tell JJ to treasure every moment she has with him, to allow her eyes to roam over every freckle on his face and commit them to memory. To hold him at night as she reads him a bedtime story and to ruffle his hair at breakfast each morning and remind him to tie his shoes.

Because one day that might all be taken from her, and no matter how much she might love her job, and the surrogates she finds within it, nothing will compare.

Alex was not Spencer’s mother, and he was not her son. They didn’t care. They loved each other.

But she still missed her Ethan with every breath she takes.

Work helped, even though she was technically now Erin Strauss’ subordinate by several clearance levels, which irritated her to her very core. The work was hard, but immeasurably rewarding.

The work left a lot of unfinished paperwork.

“Does anyone have a copy of the autopsy of victim number two from the Wisconsin case?” 

She felt slightly bad interrupting JJ’s gushing, but she did want to be home before midnight.

“I think Rossi has it in his office.” Morgan supplied, and she nodded in thanks before making her way to collect it.

She remembers hearing of the Great David Rossi when she first joined the FBI. Their paths even crossed once or twice, but he was too distracted by building up the BAU or divorcing his second wife or collecting cigars to take notice of some random hotshot kid working in the terror unit. Older age had somewhat mellowed him, not that she’d say that to his face. She had more self-preservation than that.

Her knock on the door was quickly followed by a grunt which she assumed meant “come on in”. Before she could open her mouth however, Rossi had bolted out of his chair, and was nearly skipping towards her.

“Blake! Just the person I was hoping to see. This is a very important question: Are you allergic to anything?”

She looked at him in slight confusion. “No?”

“Fantastic! Dinner at mine tonight. I know, I know. Its very last minute, but Garcia just informed me via a very frantic phone call that today is Morgan’s 10th anniversary of being at the BAU. Now if that isn’t cause for a celebration, what is?”

Alex couldn’t help but smile. What a wonderful, wonderful team she had found herself a part of. 

The paperwork could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two updates in three days who the hell am i


	9. Aaron Hotchner; 2013

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hangovers galore

The ding that signified the elevator doors were about to open seemed to reverberate through Hotch’s skull as loud as any gunshot. The creaking as they actually opened nearly seemed worse, and he briskly walked through the still-deserted bullpen to his office. It was barely seven in the morning, but an urgent consultation request from the NYPD was forcing him to be in work hours before he wished to be.

With a raging hangover.

Last night’s karaoke antics at Rossi’s favourite bar were certainly fun in the moment, but there were not enough words in the English language to describe how much he regretted it right now. With Jack being away on a Boy Scout’s camping trip, last night seemed a perfect opportunity to unwind without any consequences. It had been years since he had been even slightly tipsy, and he was just now remembering why he never drank midweek, either.

Through the blinds in his office he could see the other BAU members stumble in, one by one.

Morgan was the next one in, looking slightly rougher than usual, but generally okay. On the complete other end of the spectrum was Garcia, who was wearing dark sunglasses and holding a flask of coffee in either hand. Predictable as ever, she did manage to muster the strength to flirt with Morgan for a few minutes before retreating to her lair.

JJ and Dave arrived at about the same time, both sporting the sunglasses and coffee look as well. Hotch vaguely recalled JJ mentioning that Will had brought Henry down to Louisiana to visit his grandmother, which would explain the level of her drinking last night. Blake, like Morgan, seemed only marginally more tired than usual when she came in a few minutes later, and Hotch envied their ability to hold their drink.

Reid was the last to turn up, having stopped at a local café to get a round of coffee for his very hungover teammates. Through his office window Hotch stared momentarily at the kid in utter confusion. He looked even more upbeat than normal, openly laughing with Morgan at JJ’s dishevelled state. _Of course,_ Hotch suddenly remembered. _Kid doesn’t really drink._ Once again in envy of a less frazzled teammate, Hotch slowly walked out to the railing overlooking the bullpen.

“BAU Team, consultation case in the briefing room. Now, please.” He called, before walking to the left to knock loudly on Dave’s door.

“Go away, Aaron.”

Hotch allowed himself a moment to chuckle quietly before pushing open Rossi’s door, to find the man in question slumped over his desk, blinds closed to avoid any and all light.

“It’s only a consultation case.”

“I don’t care. I’m retiring again.”

He made this threat at least fifteen times a week. The team have collectively decided to ignore him.

“Sure you are. Hurry up.”

With that Hotch left, letting the door slam shut for good measure, which he immediately regretted as it aggravated his own headache as well as Dave’s. 

Entering into the briefing room he saw nearly all of his agents, apart from Rossi and Garcia who had not yet arrived, and Reid who was annoyingly perky, looking in a state of misery. Blake and Morgan looked to be dozing with chins resting on their hands while JJ had fully fallen asleep with blonde hair spread all across the round table.

“Where’s Garcia?” Hotch asked Reid, knowing he was the only one capable of giving a coherent answer at this stage.

“She got an alert from the NYPD and is going through it in her office. Is this case relating to the string of home invasions that we heard about last week? If so, the geographic profile really is fascinating. Historically, regarding this type of MO in conjunction with the high-density housing in that area of New York, one would be led to believe that-“

“Spencer. I am _begging_ you to shut up.”

Ah. Here Dave was, then.

He continued to grumble as he sat in his seat, glaring at anything and anyone he saw. Morgan raised his eyebrows in amusement and Hotch rolled his eyes in response. The closing of Dave’s favourite bar, one that contained so many memories, was bound to hit him hard. Despite the joy of last night, he was allowed to be feeling down this morning. Although the constant grumbling was beginning to get on everyone’s nerves.

Lucking, Garcia decided to bound through the doors at that moment before someone would say something they ended up regretting. She looked far livelier than she did a mere few minutes ago, and for that Hotch was grateful, even if her bright clothes made his eyes hurt.

“Hello my superheroes! Oh God, that greeting was too loud even for me. Inside voice, Penelope.” She took a moment to compose herself, rubbing softly at her temple. “Ok! So, the NYPD have contacted me to say that there actually aren’t any murder victims.”

That seemed to wake everyone up a bit. A mumble of confusion echoed through the room before she continued.

“Basically the unsub is suspected to be the same one involved in the home invasions that’ve been taking place-“

Reid interjected with a soft “Knew it!”, but Hotch ignored him. He was too invested in the peculiarities of the case.

“-the NYPD are practically convinced of it. But get this: The unsub is only invading homes that have dead bodies in them already. The main theory is that the unsub’s a home nurse and has knowledge of say, elderly patients who have passed away. He then robs their house before stabbing them post-mortem. The pictures are on your tablets. I haven’t looked at them and I don’t want to.”

Hotch knew that although the hangovers were making work uncomfortable for everyone this morning, the crime scene photos did a good job of focusing the brain. No matter how many years you spend looking at victim’s bodies, it never gets any easier to stomach it. It does, however, force your brain to become more analytical and temporarily push the horrified thoughts that rise to the surface down again. Once everyone had gotten a good look at the files that Garcia had brought, Hotch spoke again.

“Okay. I know no-one is at their best this morning, but there is still an unsub that we need to assist in catching. JJ, Blake, I want you along with Garcia to do a deep dive into the victim’s families and medical records. Dave, Morgan, you focus on the police reports of the home invasions. Reid, you know the drill, geographic profile. I’m going to be on the phone with lead detective, I’m expecting a call any seco-“

Before he could even finish his sentence, his cell phone was buzzing.

“Okay team. Get to work.”

Hotch answered his phone while walking out of the door, but it was over by the time he reached his office desk. The NYPD had managed to catch the unsub without the assistance of an FBI profile. Hotch was simultaneously relieved and utterly amazed. Nearly 20 years of work in the BAU didn’t leave him with an entirely positive impression of the capabilities of local law enforcement. Still, it meant that there was no need for anyone to kill themselves with work today. The headache that was pulsing behind his eyes subsided slightly. Maybe he would just call it a day, despite it being barely half eight in the morning. They had only come home from their last case yesterday and the drinking didn’t help. Being Unit Chief did come with some perks, and that included the power to declare a day off after cases.

He spent a few minutes typing up a report of the morning’s activities so that no one could claim that any paperwork was incomplete. Soon he was striding back towards the briefing room, ready to deliver the good news. He stopped in the doorway, however, staring at his team in action.

Garcia was hunched over her laptop typing furiously as JJ and Blake stared over her shoulders. They were spitting out theories and suggestions at lightning speed, working in tandem, like a finely oiled machine. This was predictable for JJ and Garcia, who have spent the better part of 10 years working together. Hotch was glad to see Blake so involved as well. She had been struggling with guilt over the Zugzwang affair last year; between the tragic murder of Reid’s Maeve, and then Erin Strauss’ death. Hotch was thankful that this year seemed to be quieter. Well, as quiet as this job can get.

Dave and Morgan were talking in low tones, theorising amongst themselves. Hotch remembered first joining the BAU, and following Rossi around like an eager student, desperate to learn the ins and outs of this department. He also remembers when Morgan first joined and expected him to be the same. But Morgan arrived with a sense of confidence bordering on arrogance. Although he certainly respected Hotch, there was no doubt that he was more of a lone wolf. Hotch smiles as he looks at Morgan now, over a decade later. There was still the trademark confidence, but where he may once have been stubbornly independent, he was now the epitome of a team player, and a natural leader. He really could be the future of the BAU.

Hotch’s gaze shifted over to Reid, who was drawing lines on the map of Manhattan that meant nothing to anyone but himself. His intellect still staggered Hotch sometimes, but what impressed him more was the resilience that the young man possessed. Their situations weren’t directly comparable, but Hotch couldn’t help but draw parallels between Haley’s death, and Maeve’s. Reid had mourned as he did. Had cried in guilt and pain and despair. And now he stood on his two feet, not even tempted to self-medicate last night, and was working on the geo-profile.

He was proud of Reid. Of Morgan. Of JJ, Blake, and Garcia. He thinks to when he was a junior profiler, hoping that David Rossi would be proud of him. Now, he thinks, they’re proud of each other.

“Sir?” Garcia’s voice broke him out of his thoughts.

“NYPD have caught him. Jason Harrington, age 32, nurse. He’s pleading guilty to all charges. Head home guys, sleep off the hangovers, see you tomorrow.”

With that Hotch turned on his heel and walked back to his office to gather his briefcase and paperwork, smiling slightly at the ruckus he could hear occurring behind him.

_”I came in at 7am! And they caught him already?”_

_”I’m gonna sleep for 17 hours.”_

_”No one call me. If you do, I’ll kill you. My head ACHES.”_

_”Jesus Christ. I’m falling asleep right here. Wake me if there’s an actual case.”_

By the time Hotch had collected all his belongings, the briefing room was deserted (Despite Dave’s claim that he was sleeping there). Hotch took the elevator down to the car park, but before he made his way to his car, he heard Morgan and Reid conversing on the other side of a jeep. He was obscured from view and didn’t mean to eavesdrop; it just seemed to accidently naturally happen.

“Pretty Boy, come on. I can give you a lift home.”

“I’m fine. I actually have plans now that work’s cancelled. It’s Saturday, after all.”

Hotch could nearly picture Morgan’s wide smile and curious eyes.

“Plans? With a girl?”

Maeve’s death was still slightly raw, but everyone wanted Reid to move on (at his own pace, of course). The kid deserved to be happy.

“Something like that.”

“Well, I can still give you a lift. Where to?”

Hotch could hear Reid sigh, a sign that Morgan had won their little pseudo-argument.

“The National Museum of Natural History. We’re meeting there.”

“No problem, playa!”

“Ugh, please stop.”

“Not until I get a name.”

“Morgan-“

“Come on, man. Or else I’ll have Garcia stalk you.”

“Garcia looked half dead on her feet this morning.”

“Kid-“

“Thomas. His name is Thomas. It’s a first date.”

Hotch felt slightly bad for eavesdropping. This was obviously something private for Reid. But there was a large part of him that was glad he overheard. Reid was so closed off sometimes, so hard to reach. He was glad that he trusted Morgan enough to confide in him. 

“Well, let’s not keep Thomas waiting.”

As the two profilers walked towards the other end of the carpark, Hotch saw Morgan ruffle Reid’s hair softly, and pull him into a side-hug.

Not that he would ever tell anyone about this, but Hotch nearly found himself tearing up at the sight.

They’d all come so far in the past few years, for better or for worse.

But mostly for better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am getting my exam results tomorrow that will determine if i get into college HOLY FUCK am i nervous. so i wrote this to distract myself


	10. Derek Morgan; 2015

The ticking of his own wristwatch was all that Derek could hear, even over the familiar sound of JJ and Reid chatting about everything and nothing. It was a Friday evening, a mere fifteen or so minutes before work was due to end (provided they didn’t get a case). Thus, nobody was truly focused on their paperwork, even Rossi and Hotch, who appeared to be discussing tactics for Jack’s upcoming soccer game in Rossi’s office.

As the hands on his watch moved to signify that another minute had passed, Derek briefly hoped that Garcia would emerge from her office and declare that they had a last minute case, as far away from Quantico as possible, maybe somewhere in Alaska. He could hear the kid’s voice in his head saying _Actually, the furthest major town from Quantico within the United States is Honolulu, but it is very unlikely we’d have a case there. Only South Dakota has a smaller death-by-serial-killer population percentage than Hawaii._  
It wouldn’t matter what state the case was in though, as long as it was far, far away. Preferably a couple hundred miles. Maybe a thousand. Far enough away that he would have to cancel his date with Savannah. 

Derek winced to himself as he thought that. It sounded really bad. Things with Savannah had been incredible; better than he ever could have possibly imagined. She was gorgeous, and understanding, and clever, and kind. She was positively perfect, and it terrified him half to death. The inherent contradiction of that statement wasn’t lost on him, but that knowledge did nothing to help.

“Morgan?”

Reid’s voice interrupted his internal freak-out, and he glanced up to see the young doctor quickly stuffing his belongings into his satchel, obviously packing up for the weekend. JJ had moved over to talk with the BAU’s newest agent, Kate Callahan.

“Yeah, kid?”

“Garcia and I are headed out early to catch the last Hobbit film before it leaves theaters, want to come along? I can explain the major plot points to you on the way if you haven’t seen any of the other movies or read the book. If you haven’t read the book I would really recommend it! I loved it as a kid, and it’s a really great introduction into the high fantasy genre-“

He usually tried to let the kid ramble as long as he needed, provided they weren’t in the middle of a case, but he just couldn’t handle it this evening.

“Sorry, Reid, but no can do. Tell my Baby Girl I’ll make it up to her.”

“Make what up to me?”

“Morgan can’t come to the movie tonight.”

_”What?”_

Derek figures he must be really distracted if he didn’t notice Penelope coming up behind him; he usually has a sixth sense about these things. He wants to be preoccupied by work, not by a movie meet-up. Although on any other day he wouldn’t mind spending an evening with his two favourite nerds, he knew that Garcia would be physically incapable of not asking him questions about his romantic life, and he wasn’t prepared to enter into _that_ conversation. He could try and turn it around on them, ask about Reid’s couple dates in the past year that amounted to nothing, or Garcia’s obviously failing relationship with ‘Sam’, or whatever the hell his name was, but that would be mean. Derek knew he would be miserable company tonight and didn’t want to ruin their fun.

“Sorry, PG. You know I would if I could.”

The disappointed look on her face lasted a few more seconds before she came over and planted a quick kiss on the top of his head.

“Oh my Chocolate Adonis, fret not. You’ll just have to buy me lunch next week.” She winked as she said this and smiled reassuringly at him. Derek found himself smiling back, against his will. Garcia could read him like an open book and knew better than to try and force him into coming with them tonight.

“Come on Boy Wonder, we’re gonna be late!”

With a parting smile from Penelope and a cheerful wave from Reid, Derek was once again left alone with his thoughts. _This is ridiculous_ , he berated himself. _Nothing is wrong with you and Savannah. In fact, things are perfect. One conversation doesn’t have to change anything-_

Derek, completely forgetting that Kate and JJ were still in the bullpen, decided to groan loudly and lightly slam his head against his desk in frustration.

“Wow, okay Henry.” JJ teased. “Morgan, want to tell me why you’re acting like my 6 year old when he doesn’t get what he wants?”

_Please don’t talk about kids right now, Jareau._

“Not particularly, no.”

The universe had evidently decided that he wasn’t allowed a reprieve today, as Kate sauntered over and plopped herself on the desk beside his. Her expression was open and curious, like JJ’s, and he knew that both agents would be willing to listen to his problems. But he was stubborn.

He forgot that JJ was just as persistent.

“Morgan, I am not giving you your car keys back until you talk to us.”

Derek’s brows furrowed together in confusion before he realised that JJ had obviously swiped his keys from his drawer while he was busy grumbling into his paperwork.

“Jennifer-“

“Ooh, ‘Jennifer’. Breaking out the big guns, huh?” JJ teased. “Out with it, big guy. You never blow off Pen and Spence like that.”

Derek sighed deeply, knowing that he was completely and utterly trapped in this conversation.

“Alright, alright. I suppose you two are better equipped to give advice than my two nerds.”

JJ and Kate exchanged curious glances but settled down into chairs beside him. Derek took a deep breath, hoping to settle his nerves. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally throw up on his desk in the middle of the (admittedly deserted) bullpen.

“I’m supposed to go on a date with Savannah, but I’m thinking of cancelling.” He explained, quickly waving off their despairing expressions. “Its nothing bad. We’re not breaking up. We just had a- We had a sort of, I don’t know, serious conversation the other day, and it sort of freaked me out.”

“Sort of?” Kate’s words were kind, but her eyes held soft amusement.

“Okay. I’m extremely freaking out.” He decided that there was no point in waiting any longer; you had to rip the bandage off eventually. “She said she wants kids someday.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” JJ asked softly. “You’re great with kids, fantastic with Henry. You’ll be an amazing father one day.”

Derek leaned back in his chair to face her directly.

“I know that, logically. I’ve always imagined myself with kids. Couple little Morgans running around, in a nice house with a big back yard. So why am I losing my shit because the woman I’m in love with also wants that?”

“Because its suddenly not a fantasy anymore. It’s a real and distinct possibility, and no matter how much you want it, its always going to be a little bit terrifying.” Kate supplied.

JJ was nodding along. “I was scared to death when Will and I first took Henry home from the hospital. I thought for sure that I would drop him, or that he’d roll over in his sleep and suffocate. I even convinced myself that someone would break in and kidnap him.”

“How did you get over it?”

“I didn’t. Not really. There’s always a little bit of fear whenever he’s not in my sight. But you eventually realise that babies are resilient, and you learn to be apart from them. I just make sure to treasure every moment I have with him. He’s growing up so fast, I sometimes forget he’s not a new-born anymore.”

Kate took over, adding her two-cents. “I never expected to be a parent so young, but I don’t regret a single second of it. It’s absolutely terrifying a lot of the time, but mostly its not. Most of the time, its just wonderful, plain and simple. I want to know everything about her and learn all of her likes ad dislikes. She’s thirteen now and still changing every day. It’s incredible.”

Derek knew he had to voice this last concern now, or he never would. He’d go home and let it fester until it took over his very being.

“What if I can’t be a good father? I can only just about remember mine. What if-“

“Derek Morgan, I’m gonna stop you right there. Listen, I don’t know much about your family, but from what Penelope’s told me, you helped your Mom raise your two sisters after your dad’s death. That’s an incredible task to ask of a teenager. One that you rose to. Look at Jack and Henry as well! They adore you! I’m not gonna let you get so caught up in your own head that you distance yourself from reality, you’re too smart for that.”

Derek noticed that JJ was getting slightly emotional, and he reached over to grab her hand.

“So many people can’t have kids. So many people, so goddamn many people miscarriage-” She broke off then, eyes watering. “You and Savannah are going to be amazing parents to an amazing kid one day. For now, take it slow. But just know, that when the day comes, you’ll rise to the challenge. And excel.”

If Derek’s eyes were watering as well, neither Kate nor JJ mentioned it, but they sat there for a little while longer, until the world seemed a little bit calmer.

Derek smiled.

“Ladies, if you would excuse me. I have a date to go on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY EXAM RESULTS WERE REAL GOOD!!! this will not mean anything to anyone who isnt Irish but I got 567 points in my leaving cert!! FUCKING DELIGHTED


	11. Penelope Garcia; 2015

There were very few things in life that Penelope Garcia could say with full certainty that she hated.

The many serial killers that her job exposed her to obviously topped that list, followed by broccoli and the colour beige. She never expected, however, to hate the BAU’s kitchenette microwave so much.

All of her meals from the past week came from microwaveable food, and she felt like she was 19 and living alone for the first time again; surviving on mac and cheese and pure spite. Living in lockdown in the BAU until the Dirty Dozen are caught got pretty tiring very quickly, and she knew she would give anything for just one night’s sleep in her own bed.

“Umm, Agent Garcia?”

The spoon that Penelope was twiddling with went flying across the room due to her shock at the voice that snuck up on her and hit Agent Grant Anderson dead centre on his face.

“Oh my goodness, I am _so sorry!_ ” she squeaked, bending down to pick up the utensil. “I thought everyone had gone home, did something come up?”

Anderson looked slightly overwhelmed by her question and general frantic demeanour but answered promptly anyway. “No. No, everything’s fine. I just wanted to ask if you’d help me with my laptop? It’s not working, and I would go to the IT department but it’s late and pretty much everyone’s left.”

Penelope could barely conceal her excitement. _Finally!_ Something to take her mind off the soul-crushing boredom and simultaneous anxiety of being holed up in here all day and all night.

“Of course! They don’t call me a Tech Whiz for nothing, let’s go! Wait, where are we going?”

Anderson huffed out a laugh. “My car. It’s still within the building, don’t worry.”

Penelope was a little confused as to why his laptop wasn’t just at his desk but decided not to push it. They made their way down the underground parking lot with minimal small talk, mainly focused on random TV shows or movies, avoiding work talk altogether. Despite working in the same building as Anderson for the last 11 years, Penelope was slightly ashamed that she was completely devoid of any knowledge as to what his job description entailed. He definitely wasn’t BAU, and yet seemed to be a permanent fixture over the last decade.

His laptop took mere minutes to fix, a simple matter of re-setting the anti-virus security system. In fact, the repair job took a suspiciously short amount of time, and Anderson currently seemed to be sweating slightly.

“Hey, I was wondering if you could maybe help me change my… my screensaver as well?”

“That’s pretty simple to do.”

Anderson gave a nervous laugh. “I’m useless with technology.”

“Aren’t you friends with Gina Sharp? You know, IT Technician? Currently dating my ex-boyfriend? Ask her.”

She didn’t mean to be so sharp with him, but it was late, and she was tired and so, so sick of being in this goddamn building.

“Agent Garcia-“

“Listen, I just want to go home. Well, upstairs. I guess that’s my home for the foreseeable future.”

Anderson looked at her with something akin to sadness with a mix of guilt, and Penelope felt her eyes narrow in suspicion. Why did he lure her down here, to a practically abandoned parking lot, late in the evening when everyone else had gone home? With the Dirty Dozen after her, there was no such thing as being too careful.

“Please, Penelope-“

“I have a panic button in my pocket, and I am not afraid to use it. What the hell do you want?”

She decided she must have come across as suitably aggressive, because Anderson visibly flinched back and raised his hands in a gesture of non-aggression.

“Woah! Woah, okay. Nothing, its nothing, really. I- Oh what the hell,” he muttered, before looking up at the ceiling in exasperation. “Morgan is gonna kill me.”

“What? Why?”

“You’re gonna have to act surprised. Pretend that I never told you anything.”

“You _haven’t_ told me anything!”

He sighed deeply. “I was sent by Morgan to distract you. Your whole team, they’re setting up the conference room for an early-birthday celebration for you. Everyone’s noticed that you’ve been a bit down lately and-”

Penelope cut him off with a loud gasp, which she belatedly realised Anderson may have interpreted as a cry of pain but was actually one of pure surprise and joy. The tears that filled her eyes were happy ones, and she quickly stepped over to engulf him in one of her trademark bear hugs.

“That is, absolutely without a doubt, the sweetest thing I have ever heard, oh my goodness. Are they up there now? Oh wow, I just love them all so much. Can we go up now? You’re coming with me, by the way.”

Anderson had a small smile on his face but shook his head. “I don’t want to intrude. I’m not a member of the BAU…”

Penelope resisted the urge to grab his shoulders and ask _What the hell is your actual job?_ , but she figured that might be slightly counter-productive.

“You wouldn’t be intruding, hush. You still like Star Trek, right? My boy wonder would love to chat to you about it! Have you met Tara Lewis yet? She’s a doctor too. I don’t know if she likes Star Trek but maybe she does – you can ask! Oh please come along, this is gonna be amazing, incredible, stupid levels of fun. And I can absolutely act surprised! Not to toot my own horn, but I am a decent enough actress. Never fear, now let’s go!”

She then grabbed him by his jacket sleeve and dragged him back to the elevators, a wide smile plastered on her face. Her family never failed to cheer her up, no matter how low she felt. Anderson beside her looked significantly more relaxed than he did a mere few minutes ago, and for that she was thankful as well. 

When they reached the bullpen, she could hear her team before she saw them. More specifically, she could hear Tara and JJ laughing together as Rossi complained that wrapping presents was impossible, and that the cello tape obviously hated him. A quip about three failed marriages from Morgan and a fact on the inventor of cello tape, Richard Drew, from Reid later and Rossi could be heard throwing the package at Hotch to finish wrapping. It was such a simple interaction, and although Penelope couldn’t yet see their faces, she could picture each of their expressions perfectly.

Hotch would be smiling softly. He always tended to do so on occasions like this; more relaxed ones, especially when Rossi was the butt of a joke. Rossi, alternatively, would be scowling. Not in anger or in frustration at anyone, but at the cello tape, purely because he would have wanted the present to be perfect. JJ and Derek would be openly beaming; they always had an extra spring in their steps when these little celebrations happened. Spencer would have a slightly smaller smile on his face, that would transform into a massive one when he saw her. She can’t quite get as specific a reading on Tara yet, but she figures from the laugh she heard a few minutes ago that she would also look suitably happy.

“Well, _this_ is so unexpected! I am truly, honestly, staggeringly astonished! Never would I have foreseen this, not in a thousand, million years.”

Penelope's (purposefully) terrible imitation of a surprised party guest served to make Anderson’s face turn a shade of red so deep he looked like a sentient tomato. Absolutely mortified, he attempted to explain the situation, but his words got caught in his throat, and all that came out was a squeaked ‘sorry!’

“Baby Girl!” Morgan whined. “You could have at least waited until we had all your gifts wrapped. Also, hey, Anderson, what the hell man?”

“Don’t blame him, sweet cheeks, I threatened him until he broke. I’d be an incredible interrogator. Anyways, Anderson and I here are getting the first slice of this gorgeous looking cake.” 

Within minutes the party was in full swing, with party poppers and hats and some of JJ’s signature trick candles that can’t be extinguished. Penelope thought back to all the very many birthday parties they’d hosted here at the BAU, and how even though so much has changed this year, so much has stayed the same.

JJ, now a profiler with two beautiful baby boys, was still the same girl that found out everyone’s birthday when she joined the BAU and planned accordingly.

Her very own Derek Morgan, ten years older and with a simply stunning girlfriend, was still her go-to person for flirting and/or emotional breakdowns. Through thick and thin and everything in between.

Her baby boy wonder, Dr 187 himself, who was looking slightly more stressed than usual lately, but nevertheless still filled any room he entered with a cascade of facts and a heart of gold.

Rossi, who begrudgingly at first, but utterly voluntarily later on, ended up being whittled down by this wonderful group of people. Now, he would be the very first one to proclaim them a family.

Hotch. Over the past decade and a bit, he has been beaten down and bruised, but never cruel nor vengeful. He smiled back when Garcia smiled at him, a smile that she wishes appeared more often, but made sure she treasured whenever it did.

And Tara Lewis. She was new, and brilliant, and witty, and an outsider. Penelope didn’t let the last adjective bother her. Everyone was an outsider in the BAU until you experience one of these parties, and truly witness the dynamic that is shared. But Tara is also smiling, and it makes her so happy.

God, she loves these people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont know how many people read these notes, but just wanted to quickly announce that i got accepted into my first choice university!!! as of october im going to be studying english literature and history at my dream college, and i couldnt be happier. !!!!! what a week :D


	12. David Rossi; 2017

Both the paper calendar on Rossi’s wall and the virtual one on his laptop signified that it was late March, but if he was being honest with himself, the days all seemed to flow together now in a tired haze of work. Not that he minded, he was here voluntarily.

Despite the fact that it was a Saturday, and they all (rather miraculously) had the day off, he was holed up in his office, pouring over old case files and reports. Most were digital, some still on paper, and all thoroughly depressing. None contained the answers he wanted, the answers he _needed._

Every case file he had in front of him contained a report on a false imprisonment; the circumstances leading up to it and the aftermath. It happened far more often than one would imagine, and Rossi was desperate for any and all information that might help him. That might help Reid.

_Reid._

Rossi had been to visit the young doctor in prison a few days ago and had to resist the urge to curse violently the second he laid eyes on the kid. Yellow bruises littered his face, framing two wide eyes that seem to lose a little bit of light, a little bit of _life_ each time Rossi looked into them. There was a terrible fear present in them; a fear that Rossi had become well acquainted with during his time in Vietnam. It pained him to see the echoes of his near 50 year old trauma in Reid’s youthful eyes. 

There was an awful preconception in the world that PTSD is a soldier’s ailment. Rossi has known plenty of soldiers, and plenty of civilians. He knew the truth; pain is universal, and it does not spare the innocent.

Because that’s what Spencer is. Innocent.

There’s not a single doubt in his mind over that fact. Spencer Reid, Halloween and magic enthusiast, who wears odd socks and rambles about Star Trek, is not a killer. Rossi has spent the better part of forty years looking into killer’s eyes and souls; he knew what guilt looked like, and it did not look like the BAU’s resident genius, even two long months into an undefined prison term.

He hopes he’s alright. He also knows that that hope is impossibly naïve.

The bruises that adorn his skin never seem to heal before more are added, and it _hurts._ The thought of some hardened criminals, bigger and crueller pinning Spencer to a wall, and assaulting him. With their words, with their fists. With hands that could start at his face and trail down to his torso and his arms, further down, to his-

_No._

Rossi blinked furiously and took a swig of his (now stone-cold) coffee. He can’t think of him like that. It had been years since Rossi had surrendered to the BAU’s more familial tendencies, but to his shame, he’d taken it all for granted.

As a proud Italian, Rossi’s very nature revolves around family. He sees his biological one less than he would like, but no matter. He found a new one, right in the heart of the very FBI department he founded all those years ago. Although he called them his family, he never paid much attention to any specific feelings or sentiments. They loved each other, and that was enough.

But then he found out about Joy, and everything changed.

Suddenly Rossi had an _actual_ biological daughter, and a grandson, and certain feelings started clicking into place.

Son was a strong word to assign to Spencer. From what he heard of the BAU while retired, Jason seemed to fill the parental role that the kid so desperately needed. Jason, of course, ever dramatic, left with nothing but a mere note and the ghost of a hand on a shoulder. Maybe Aaron would have been more inclined to take on the moniker. Rossi knew that before he left, Hotch saw Jack in JJ and Penelope and Spencer at different times and in a million different ways. Youth was oftentimes a curse in this job and was so often stripped away all too soon.

Rossi thought to his own family, his own childhood, back in Long Island. He thought of the many uncles and aunts that helped to raise him and decided that uncle was a suitable word.

Yes, Spencer’s like a favourite nephew, for all the good it does him now. Locked away and fracturing at the seams. 

He’ll survive, they’ll damn well make sure of it.

Rossi knows this, because despite the fact that it’s nearing midday on Saturday, Prentiss is in the main office next door, chatting over legal strategies with Reid’s lawyer on the phone. He doubts she left at all last night, and he can’t judge her, neither did he. Since becoming Unit Chief Prentiss has been faced with challenge after challenge and has reacted with a grace and determination that Rossi doubted he would have possessed at her age, at any age, for that matter.

Looking out his office window, Rossi spots Agents Alvez and Walker hunched over reams of documents, highlighting sections and adding comments in the margins. Tara joins them soon, large legal book in hand, motioning to a section that she’s also highlighted. Then the three of them are once again sat down, reading through Spencer’s statements, desperately searching for grounds for exoneration.

Luke, newer than Tara but not quite as new as Stephen, has truly been thrown into the deep end with the Mr Scratch case. However, like Prentiss, shying away from trials isn’t in his nature. Rossi has a lot of respect for the ‘newbie’, as Garcia has christened him, and he can tell that, like all of them, he too misses Reid, despite the relatively short amount of time he’d known the man. It was a testament, Rossi mused, to Reid’s weird, quirky charm. It was positively endearing, and when missing left a dark cloud hovering over them all.

Rossi was interrupted from his thoughts with a soft knock on his door from one Dr Lewis.

“Doesn’t anyone in this building actually go home?”

Tara shook her head, gentle amusement gracing her features. “Right back at you, Mr Hypocrite. Just dropped by to give you the updated statements from the prosecution.” Her mouth twisted in dissatisfaction. “It’s not… good, exactly. But it could be a hell of a lot worse.”

“If that isn’t the story of the poor kid’s life.”

A hand came to rest on his shoulder. He looked up to see Tara staring down at him levelly. “You’re not going to get any more work done today, let us sort through your files. You should head down to where you’re needed.”

He furrowed his brow in confusion, but Tara just nodded sagely at him, and mimicked typing on a keyboard. _Of course._

The usually quick walk down to Penelope’s office seemed to stretch on for ages, which Rossi was secretly thankful for; it allowed him to prepare for whatever scene he was greeted with.

It’s almost childlike in its innocence.

JJ and Penelope are sat cross legged on two cushions, pink and fluffy and so very obviously belonging to their tech genius. Between them sits an obnoxiously large box of doughnuts, all of them chocolate coated and covered in sprinkles. Rossi would have been a terrible profiler and an even worse friend not to recognise them as Spencer’s favourite.

“Those part of your five-a-day?”

JJ rolled her eyes. “Rossi, you had three-day old risotto for breakfast, lunch _and_ dinner yesterday. Let us have this.”

Chuckling, he lowered himself down into one of Garcia’s office chairs, accepting the doughnut that was being offered to him.

“These are good. No wonder the kid is obsessed with them.”

Penelope smiled. “I’m just glad I found out that he loved them. Sometimes he can go through entire days without eating, but he can never refuse these. I-“

She looked ready to say something else, but obviously thought better of it.

“Garcia?”

She closed her eyes sadly. “I wonder if he’s eating better in… there. You know? A couple square meals a day is probably more than he was getting here. I remember staying over at his apartment once, it was nearly barren.”

Rossi could see why she was reluctant to voice that thought. No one liked thinking of him locked away, and the small silver lining of regular meals did little to ease anyone’s worries.

He decided to placate her anyways. “He looked healthy enough when I went to see him yesterday.”

“Except for the bruising” JJ shot back, tears rising in her already red-rimmed eyes.

Rossi held her gaze. “Bruises heal.”

That’s what he had to believe. After getting shot at in a jungle, losing his son, three divorces, and all of the inane occurrences their job exposed him too, he had to hold on to that fact. Bruises heal, and so do track marks, and so does heartache. Spencer would come back to them, as he evidently had before. And they would be here to catch him when he falls and heal him if he cracks.

JJ’s voice shook slightly but didn’t break. “Bruises heal.” She repeated, willing herself to believe it, no doubt thinking back to the electrical burns on her side and the heat of the middle eastern desert.

“Bruises heal.” Garcia echoed softly. “Over time, and with love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i literally don't know why this ended up so angsty sorry guys. hope you enjoy and have a super good and wonderful day


	13. Tara Lewis; 2018

“You know, Quantico on average gets 15 inches less snowfall per annum than the rest of the continental United States. And while January is by far the coldest month in Quantico, with night-time temperatures averaging just 25.8 degrees Fahrenheit, it is significantly warmer than other major cities in Virginia. This is due to-“

“Spence, that doesn’t make me feel any better about being snowed-in at work overnight.”

Tara couldn’t help but grin at JJ and Spencer’s interactions. They were still chatting softly, even though everyone else had taken over the main conversation on the storm that had forced them all into an impromptu overnight stay at the Bureau. JJ may play the part of an irritated older sister most of the time, but if anyone outside the BAU tried to cut across Reid, or undermine him and his words in any way, she would be the first one to defend him. It was sweet, and reminded Tara so much of her and her brother when they were younger, before everything got so unbearably complicated.

Evidently deciding that if they were to be forced to stay overnight, they may as well make the most of it, Rossi quickly slid into his office for a ‘surprise’. Absolutely no one was shocked when he arrived back a few minutes later, brandishing what looked like a bottle of very expensive wine in one hand and some ginger ale in the other.

Tara, along with Emily, Penelope and Luke, made quick work of pouring themselves a not-so-insignificant amount of wine, perfectly content to take advantage of Rossi’s obscene wealth whenever possible in whatever way available. Matt and JJ, knowing that they would have kids to go home to tomorrow when the snow eased up, started in on the ginger ale, alongside Spencer, who Tara noticed tries to avoid drinking whenever possible. Rossi himself pulled out a bottle of scotch from his bag, claiming it as his and his alone.

“Okay! This is a _perfect_ time for some team bonding!” Penelope began, when everyone was settled down at the table with their drinks in hand.

“I think we probably spend more time around each other than is healthy already.” Rossi teased, but motioned for Penelope to continue anyway.

“In my office I have an as-yet-unused game of Monopoly that I bought in London when me and Morgan went to visit Emily a few years ago. Before her spectacular return, of course.”

Tara thought back to the past couple weeks, where they faced cases involving child abductions, multiple rapists, and a serial arsonist. Relaxing with her team and a good old-fashioned board game sounded like heaven.

“Monopoly sounds great!”

Oh, how wrong she was.

An hour and a half later, Luke and Matt were teaming up against Rossi because each of them landed on his property with 3 houses twice in a row. Emily had bought nearly the entire left hand side of the board and was discreetly making deals with JJ in an attempt to buy out the whole edge in exchange for a Get Out of Jail Free Card and several dollars of her own, real money. Penelope was complaining because the rules don’t allow for people to work in teams or bribe with real money, but had no problem lying to Spencer (who had never played before) and telling him that if you landed on a property belonging to the person sitting to your left (as Penelope was), you had to pay double rent.

As for Tara, she was simply watching the trouble and tension build with a smirk on her face, wine in hand, and the most expensive properties in her possession, preparing to rain holy hell down upon anyone who lands on her spaces.

In retrospect, playing this game with some of the most competitive people on the planet probably wasn’t the smartest idea, especially considering that Emily and Penelope were very quickly tipping the scales from ‘pleasantly tipsy’ to ‘absolutely drunk’.

Luke’s most recent double roll landed him on a train station that Penelope owned –

_”Suck it, newbie!”_

and then another double, and the Super Tax space – 

_”Why all this tax? Fuck the government.” “Luke, you work for the government.”_

and then, finally, on one of the dark blue spaces with a big red hotel that belonged to Tara, and resulted in him owing her…

“$2000? Lewis, you’re killing me here. I’m poor as shit right now.”

“Suck it up, Alvez, your money’s mine.”

“You’re awful, you know that?”

“That’s not what your daddy said in bed last night.”

_“TARA.”_

And then the rest of the team were doubled over in laughter, apart from Luke, who was desperately trying to convince Matt to lend him some money, to no avail. Utterly bankrupt, Luke became the first one to drop out of the game, declaring that he was now on Spencer’s team, much to Penelope’s chagrin, as he immediately revealed that the BAU’s resident tech expert had been hustling him for the entire game. Spencer, feigning utter betrayal, stole Penelope’s bag of gummy bears in retaliation, and spent the next forty-five minutes throwing the green ones (the ones he absolutely hated) at her head.

Soon JJ was out of the game as well, having given all of her properties and money to Emily in exchange for a promise of babysitting duties on both her and Will’s birthday. Matt was next out, his early partnership with Luke meaning that he lost a substantial amount when Luke was viciously murdered by Tara.

There was a slightly awkward silence when Spencer landed on the Go to Jail space, but he quickly recovered, claiming that he should be let out early on time already served and good behaviour.

“When we came to get you out you were in sol- solitary confinement! Good behaviour my ass.” Tara knew that Penelope wouldn’t have been so blasé about Spencer’s prison time if she wasn’t as earth-shatteringly drunk as she was right now with green gummy bears in her hair.

“Yeah, but I stabbed myself, not anyone else. I’m gonna move to Just Visiting.”

Despite circumventing the game’s criminal justice system, Spencer was made bankrupt not four rounds later, with a cackling Rossi demanding $1600 in Monopoly dollars and the rest in US dollars but seemed content enough when Spencer offered him the rest of the gummy bears in exchange.

That left Tara, Emily, Rossi and Penelope; none of whom were exactly sober, and all of whom were vying for the win. When it looked like Penelope might be inching ahead, owning 3 hotels and 9 houses over 16 properties, Emily stood up to make an announcement.

“As Unit Chief, I say that Penelope should be disqualified ‘cause she complained about me cheating even though she played Spence like a fiddle.”

“EMILY. You are the absolute light of my life and I adore every inch of you, and you’re also my boss now so please don’t fire me for saying this but, that’s some MEGA-GRADE bullsh-“

“Careful, Red Riding Hood, I don’t wanna report you for threatening a superior.”

“Firstly, I haven’t had red hair in about 8 years, so that nickname is redundant. Secondly, pulling rank? I expected better. I’m not mad, Em, I’m just disappointed.”

“I don’t know, you look pretty mad.”

“OF COURSE I’M PRETTY MAD-“

“OKAY!” Rossi cut in, waving his near-empty scotch bottle like a flag. “I vote we just count how much money we have left, and whoever has the most wins, because its nearly 3 in the morning, and I’m not as young as I used to be. The couch in my office is begging to be slept on.”

Tara once again smirked into her wine glass, having spent the last few minutes while Emily and Penelope were fighting subtly stealing some of their $100 notes. Spencer and Matt both noticed, but very wisely, simply smiled and didn’t snitch on her.

By the end, Tara and Rossi had exactly $5800 each, and for a moment, it looked like it might be a draw, before Rossi proudly stood up, and declared himself the winner.

“ _What?_ How? We both have the exact same!”

“Lewis, you’re drinking very expensive wine that I gave you, you’ve been in my debt since this game began. Now, who’s the winner?”

Since Tara was a mature adult, she didn’t flip the board. She did, however, pour her remaining wine into his remaining scotch, ruining the rest of his drink and causing Penelope to laugh uproariously.

Despite the fact that Rossi claimed to want to retire to sleep, he didn’t do so for the next several hours, all the members of the BAU content to trade stories and fond memories as the snow fell outside the window and a Monopoly board lay abandoned in front of them.

Tara smiled as Matt started showing home videos of his million or so kids. There was something so simple and pure about this evening, despite the chaos of their earlier game.

Tara smiled again as JJ rushed to show videos of _her_ children.

By the time the sun rose, and the snows melted, Tara’s entire face hurt from smiling, but she didn’t mind one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yesterday i chopped 8 inches off my hair for charity!! my head feels so much lighter lmao i had Way Too Much Hair


	14. Spencer Reid; 2019

As a man of science, Spencer Reid believes in the careful analysis of events, the forming of a hypothesis, and the running of experiments. Over his nearly four decades of life, he has come to one simple conclusion: morning people were oddities of nature and should not be allowed to subject others to their antics at four in the morning.

This conclusion is at the forefront of his mind as he sits criss-cross applesauce on the floor of Garcia’s office, facing JJ, who is chatting about the protein shake she’d had before her morning run yesterday, and then the mixed fruit and vegetable salad she’d had for breakfast.

Penelope was busy typing away on her laptop, (albeit tiredly), and so Spencer was left alone in this death-trap of a conversation, and he wondered if this is what it was like for everyone else when he went on one of his long-winded rambles. The main difference being, he usually wasn’t rambling to people at quarter past four in the morning.

“-and then last Christmas Will and I bought each other subscriptions to the fancy gym up past that new hotel by the bank, you know the one. Anyway, the new protein-based diet combined with the online personal trainer regime that we sync to our phones allow us to-“

“Jayje, I love you, but it is way too early to hear about your fitness routine. I think Boy Wonder zoned out about four anecdotes ago.” Penelope grumbled, tired eyes opening only long enough to glare at JJ, who rolled her eyes in response.

“Pen, it’s not that early. Ever since Michael’s been sleeping through the night fully, I get up at four for my runs. Oh come on guys, don’t look at me like that, Morgan got me into the habit years ago. A healthy body leads to a healthy mind.”

Spencer couldn’t think of anything he’d hate _more_ than 4am runs around the city parks, but he wasn’t about to tell JJ that, because it would only lead to another lecture about how one couldn’t survive on coffee and cereal alone, which he personally disagreed with. Coffee and cereal got him through high school, college, and his entire adult life thus far.

“You and Morgan are just weird jocks.” He mumbled into his hand, which he was using to prop up his sleep-heavy head.

“Oh, you’re lucky he doesn’t work here anymore.” JJ teased. “He’d have you on those morning runs quicker than you can read War and Peace for _that_ comment."

Spencer was preparing to reply when Penelope’s computer gave a loud ‘ping!’, which piqued his attention.

“What’s that? Can we start working now and not listen to Ms Marathon over here?”

That earned him a fond smack on the arm from JJ and a giggle from Penelope, who had begun typing away furiously once again. A few moments later and he had his answer.

“Okay! Emily, Luke and Tara have arrived in Dallas and we have been given official orders to begin! Get ready, my dears, for a heavy morning’s work.”

It was an unusual day at the BAU for myriad reasons. For one, the aforementioned three team members were conducting a series of prison interviews with serial killers who pleaded guilty and yet still aim to overturn a death penalty sentence. JJ, Spencer, and Penelope were to gather any intel and attempt to develop a general profile at Quantico, which would be finalised next Monday when the rest of the team return. It was only the three of them, as Matt had taken the day off for his youngest kid’s graduation from kindergarten. But what truly made the day unusual, however, was the absence of Rossi. 

In all the years that Spencer had worked with the man (and it was well over a decade now), he can only remember him taking 6 days off of his own accord. No one could blame him though, for wanting to use one of his holiday days to be with his grandson, who was turning eight. As Spencer thought of Rossi’s now fully grey head of hair, and the ache that he himself was getting from sitting cross-legged for so long, it served as a stark reminder that none of them were as young as they used to be.

With age, however, came not resignation, but familiarity.

As they hunkered down to work, Spencer and JJ spread their paperwork across the floor between them; files focusing on media reports and family statements on JJ’s side, and autopsies and ME reports on Spencer’s side, with the rest lying somewhere in the middle. Penelope, sat high above them both on her significantly more comfortable office chair, handled both unsub’s and victim’s family and financial histories. 

The three of them, the only BAU members in the whole building right now, moved and worked in such perfect tandem that it seemed like true clockwork. As soon as Spencer was finished with a crime scene photo analysis, JJ would slide him the adjoining witness statements, and he in turn would hand her information on the victim’s background that Garcia gave to him mere seconds before. It was a system that had been developed during early mornings and late nights working exactly like this, over the course of nearly fifteen years.

Spencer loves these days, much more than he ever thought he would at the tender age of twenty-two, when all he wanted was to be in the field like a ‘real’ FBI agent. These quiet paperwork days, working together like this, had been the foundation of two of the most powerful friendships he had the privilege of experiencing. He treasures times like these, when no one is getting shot at, or kidnapped (or both). When they’re safe and warm and, due to the early hour, slightly sleepy. 

So much has changed for them in the past decade and a half, but the friendship between the three of them has not. It has survived shootings and deaths and resurrections and lies and has only come out stronger. As JJ reaches over to pluck a finished file from his hands before he could even begin to reach over to her, a thought, unbidden, rose up into his mind:

_I love them._

It’s not a particularly startling revelation; they are, after all, what he imagines two sisters would be like if he wasn’t an only child. They had been with him through thick and thin, particularly during these last few years. These past couple years, where his mind and soul were more damaged then he could possibly have predicted, and he spent hours upon hours wondering if he would ever truly feel happiness again. 

But here, now, holed up in Garcia’s office, a place that seemed to radiate _safety_ , he does. Happiness does not burst out of him, as it does Penelope, in her clothes and her hair and her hugs. Nor like JJ, with her calming words and fierce loyalty. His happiness lies in the way Penelope unconsciously ruffles his hair as she passes by him to reach the photocopier, in the way JJ teases him every few minutes about his godawful handwriting, even though it’s the same letters she’d been staring at for the better part of fifteen years. 

His happiness comes from allowing himself to bask in this glorious friendship, a part of life that he never thought he would one day be allowed to indulge in.

“Damn.”

JJ’s voice interrupts the serene quiet that they were working in, drawing concerned stares from the room's other two occupants.

“What’s wrong?”

JJ sighs deeply, rubbing her temples in frustration. “My babysitter for tonight just cancelled. She’s in New York and her flight back to DC was moved to tomorrow. Will and I were planning on going out for his birthday, but… I guess not. Damnit.”

Spencer and Penelope only had to share a half-second look before JJ was scolding them.

“ _No._ You two are _not_ babysitting tonight. For one, it’s a school night, and you are both awful at making my boys go to sleep on time. Also, you two already look dead on your feet and it’s not even six in the morning, imagine how wrecked you’ll be by seven this evening.”

“JJ, I resent the implication that we in any way spoil Henry and Michael-“

“PG, you bought them a $1000 Lego set last Christmas.”

“Well, it was the Death Star, and it was awesome.”

“Spence, be on my side in this, please.”

“Jennifer Jareau.” Penelope said, kneeling down and grabbing JJ by the shoulders. “You are going out for a fancy dinner tonight, while me and Spencer will be incredibly responsible adults and make sure the boys eat their veggies and go to bed by nine. Have we ever let you down?”

Spencer grinned at that. It was an unfair card for Penelope to play, since there was no way that JJ could claim they had ever disappointed her before. After a few seconds of debate in her mind, she let out a resigned sigh, and nodded her head in defeat.

“Yes! Reid and I are gonna make the _best_ blanket forts with them tonight.”

“Garcia-“

“And put them to bed by nine, as promised.” Spencer quickly interjected, before Penelope could put her foot in her mouth again and get their babysitting privileges revoked.

With that dilemma sorted (and Spencer was immeasurably glad that child minding turned out to be the biggest predicament of their current case), work began again. The rhythmic sound of Penelope typing of the keyboard, and the rustle of pages being turned fill the air.

Before long, it was nearing eight o’clock, and an appropriate time for a proper breakfast. And by ‘proper’, Spencer of course meant leftover snacks from the kitchenette and some coffee. He stood up, knees creaking in protest which irritated him, and asked for the girls’ breakfast orders.

Like him, Penelope asked for some of yesterday’s leftovers and a mug of tea, while JJ mentioned that she left her salad in the top right shelf. Spencer was just about to exit the door when he heard JJ’s voice from behind him, predictable as ever.

“Maybe some water instead of coffee, yeah, Spence?”

As usual, he just smiled in return, and she rolled her eyes. This was their routine, and the familiarity brought a level of comfort that he basks in every time it occurs.

He loves these people, so, so goddamn much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohmygod guys, second last chapter. just a quick heads up that i'm planning on making a part two to this!! part two will be a collection of song fics (featuring songs from the killers because some of those lyrics just describe certain cm characters PERFECTLY)! after the song fics i'm hoping to try and do some prompts in october, so if you want to keep up with my writing you can click subscribe to the series or to my profile :)
> 
> thank you ALL for reading so far, it's been INCREDIBLE.


	15. Emily Prentiss; 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not all endings are sad ones.

There were many perks to being Unit Chief, something Emily Prentiss noticed fairly early on in her tenure. The large office space, the power to declare days off after arduous cases, the (quite substantial) pay rise. However, with the benefits, came the corresponding disadvantages; the stress of ensuring the team’s safety, dealing with the higher-ups, and the seemingly never ending pile of goddamn paperwork.

She had just finished on her fifth case file of the afternoon, when she looked up from her desk for the first time in what felt like years. There was a cramp in her right hand and pen stains on all of her fingers, but her eyes brightened despite all of that. The rain had finally stopped pouring down outside, meaning that maybe Rossi’s dinner could actually take place outside this evening.

Her musings took on a different form, then. A more… hypothetical one.

There was a tangible feel of _change_ in the air. It was almost like she was on the penultimate chapter of a book, but instead of being despairing about the ending, she was enjoying the epilogue. Rumours were beginning to float around, that Rossi may retire (again) soon, to devote more time to his new (former ex) wife. There were talks of job offers for Garcia, JJ, and for herself, different positions, different companies, although Emily didn’t want to think about that right now. For now, everyone was still working at the BAU, together, and she was determined to relish what time she had left with the whole team before things begin to change.

Laughter from down in the bullpen piques her interest, and almost as if her legs had a mind of her own, she found herself walking towards the west office window, overlooking the main area. Peeking through the blinds for a better look, she gazed down at her team members, all assembled together.

Luke and Matt were arguing about something, for the life of her she couldn’t guess what, but it had JJ and Spencer in peals of laughter watching them. Luke had actually stood up off his chair, hands flying this way and that in quite a Reid-esque manner, obviously trying (and, by the amused look on Matt’s face, failing) to get his point across. After their recent kidnapping scare, the two were closer; their brotherly relationship solidifying and strengthening. Emily smirks: little does Alvez know that he’ll soon be roped into babysitting duties for Matt and Kirsty.

Penelope interrupts the scene just then, skipping down the stairs and making a bee-line to JJ’s desk, Tara hot on her heels. In Tara’s hands Emily can spy several bags of mini-pretzels, the gorgeous salty brand from the local vender down the street. Garcia’s boisterous voice does manage to carry up to Emily’s office, and she can hear her demand that JJ take the first bag, since she won the cards tournament last week. (Reid had been away lecturing, as he’s quick to remind the team, and Emily smiles at the predictability of such an interaction).

Rossi had obviously heard the commotion and was making his way quickly down to the team, eager to swipe one of the bags before they’re all gone. He’s then unwittingly dragged into Luke and Matt’s dispute, although he seems more interested in looking at pictures of Tara’s new car that she’s showing him.

It feels familiar. It feels like home.

The teasing, the light-hearted arguments, the shared food and memories. JJ is perched on Spencer’s desk and he in turn is sitting cross legged in his chair, spinning back and forth slightly. Penelope rests her head on JJ’s shoulder from where she’s situated beside her, across from Matt and Tara, who have their legs propped up on spare seats. Luke is standing in front of Rossi’s chair, trying to convince him to side against Matt.

 _God,_ Emily thinks. _How lucky we all are._

To have the kind of support network they have, the strength of their bonds, the comfortable familiarity. Emily almost finds herself tearing up. The world so often tries to tear them down, but always, always fails. They are stronger together.

She thinks of Matt, Luke, and Tara. Newer additions to their makeshift family, but no less important. She thinks as well, to those who have left them throughout the years. From those who were only there for a short while, and those whose memory endures that bit longer. She thinks of Seaver, Callahan, Blake. Gideon, Hotch and Morgan. She thinks of the ghost of Elle, alive but haunting the bullpen when she joined.

Emily remembers fondly when Rossi first arrived, and the feeling of pure relief when she realised she was no longer the ‘newbie’. Although it was a return to the BAU for him, it was a new era he was stumbling in to; one that he, at first, rejected. But now, as he reaches over to give Penelope a kiss on the cheek, she knows that he’d be the first one to organise a team dinner, or a get-together at O’Keefe’s. Emily smiles as Garcia pecks a kiss right back on Rossi’s cheek, leaving a hot-pink lipstick stain.

When Emily first met her, Penelope Garcia was like an explosion of colour personified. Emily had immediately liked her, but secretly wondered what the hell someone like her was doing in the FBI. She flinched at blood, cried at the drop of a hat, and seemed to spend more time flirting with Morgan than doing anything else. Now, a decade and a half later, Emily is beyond proud to call her one of her closest and most valued friends. This incredible woman, who has gone above and beyond throughout the years to protect her friends, who has remained loyal and true to herself even as life got hard and was never without a smile. Said smile was currently directed at Reid, who seemed to be talking to Penelope at a million miles an hour about a subject that Emily can only guess is Sci-Fi related.

Spencer’s rambles are like music to Emily’s ears, due heavily in part to how often life threatened to rid her off his excited, passionate words. The drugs left his words sharp and cruel, Gideon’s departure made them unsure. Maeve’s death turned them small and broken, and prison gave an edge to them that broke her heart. But through each obstacle he encountered, he managed to bring his words back, bright and loving and so very, very ‘Reid’. His hands move rapidly, joyfully, as he speaks about constellations or biochemistry or Star Trek or medieval poetry. It warms her heart, even if she occasionally has to zone out because the information overload it just too extreme. Emily remembers first stepping into the BAU in 2006 and thinking that he was a college student here on a tour. He was painfully young, heartbreakingly innocent, extraordinarily kind. Life has stripped him of his innocence, and (as life does to everyone), his youth. His greatest asset, though, was not his many PhDs or eidetic memory, but his incredible capacity for kindness, for empathy. And try as life might, it has not stripped him of that. Emily knows this, because of his wide grin as he fawns over new pictures of little Michael that JJ is showing him on her phone.

JJ.

Emily was no longer shy in admitting to herself that she once harboured a small (absolutely ginormous) crush (desperate love) for SSA Jennifer Jareau. Her blonde hair which shined so prettily in sunlight, and her blue eyes which simultaneously held entire oceans and the whole sky. She had worried, back in the early days, if she would be able to maintain any form of friendship with JJ, especially after she and Will made things official. But now, 14 years, two continents, a death and a resurrection later, JJ remains beside her in her life, and Emily often wonders what her younger self could possibly have been thinking, when she wondered if they would fall apart. What JJ and Emily shared was stronger than that, and their long years of friendship was testament to it. When Emily thinks of JJ, she envisions blackbirds flying in clear, bright skies. She hears a little boy’s giggling laughter, and feels strong arms wrap around her in a comforting hug, making her feel safe, and loved. JJ will be Unit Chief someday, Emily is sure of it. She’s not certain what the circumstances will be yet, but she knows it will happen. The BAU needs JJ like a body needs its heart, and Emily knows that JJ will rise to that challenge.

Unit Chief of the Behavioural Analysis Unit. Emily likes to think that she’s done a good job. Hell, if she’s being honest, she _knows_ she has. She’s damn proud of what she and her team have accomplished, and she likes to think that wherever in the US he is, Hotch would be proud of her too.

Deciding that she’s spent far too long being an emotional, nostalgic mess in her office, Emily heads down to the main bullpen, calling out to announce her imminent arrival.

“Garcia, if there aren’t any pretzels left I’m firing you.”

“HA! Here is your specially reserved packet, O Holy and Gracious Leader.”

Opting against trying to profile whatever the hell goes on in Garcia’s head, Emily plops herself down on a desk beside Tara, glaring at her when the other woman immediately reached over and stole a pretzel.

“Lewis, I’ll fire you as well.”

Tara raised a singular eyebrow. “The unit’s getting smaller and smaller, Prentiss.”

Emily sighed dramatically. “I call dibs on keeping Reid and Simmons. Boy Wonder for the brains and Matt for his looks.”

“Emily, you’re a lesbian.”

“And Matt Simmons is objectively hot. I’m gay, not bind.”

And then they’re laughing, and talking about Matt’s new haircut, which segues into a discussion on Garcia’s red hair phase, Spencer’s long hair phase, and JJ’s bob and bangs look. Memories are being traded and new ones are being made, right here as Emily munches on her mini-pretzels.

“Garcia, do you have any poker pretzels?” Reid asks suddenly, as he notices the clock is nearing three, meaning that they only have a couple hours to play cards with pretzels for poker chips before the workday’s end. Because they are professional FBI agents who are utterly devoted to their work (and their bi-weekly, insanely competitive poker tournaments).

“Poker pretzels at the ready, 187!”

They play until the afternoon falls into the evening time, and the rain thankfully stays away, so that when they leave at 5pm (with Reid carrying 7 packets of pretzels), they know they’ll see each other in Rossi’s back garden at 8 for dinner. They’ll have his posh wine, and his gorgeous food, and they will chatter and laugh the evening away once again.

Emily loves these days with her family. Home in Quantico, home with them. 

These precious days, in between the madness of life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohmygod you guys, here we are at the end. i can't BELIEVE that i actually managed to write a 15 chapter, 24000+ fanfic on here, what the actual hell. i have loved every second and writing this, and id like to say a ginormous THANK YOU to everyones whose commented - it means the actual world to me <3
> 
> the found family trope owns my ass, i hope ye all enjoyed
> 
> (look out for the new fic im gonna post in my cm songfic series uwu thank you. should be up thursday pls subscribe to this series)

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a kudos or comment it would mean the absolute world


End file.
